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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566760">I, Alex; or how I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Akuma</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/El_Donut/pseuds/El_Donut'>El_Donut</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>100 Percent Derailed Canon, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Comedy, Featuring special musical guest Frightningale, Half Tragedy, Half comedy, Humour, Order yours today!, Original Character(s), Self-Insert, Some Characters Die, but they get brought back</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:41:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/El_Donut/pseuds/El_Donut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>High school can be a challenging time for teenagers. When you’re not actually a teenager, but just in the body of one, doubly so. And when your entire class hates you for reasons that still aren’t entirely clear, well... </p><p>Still, with enough wit, some Australian ingenuity, a droll sense of humour, and some good Charisma rolls, I might just survive this. Especially when you’re BFFs with Paris’ sunshine boy himself.</p><p>But when you’re going up against an unending list of things like pathological liars, the French culture itself, and psychos with allophilia, you begin to realise why there’s a big “if” in the middle of your l<i>if<i>e.</i></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i>Your thoughts/comments/critiques/death threats are welcome in the comments</i><br/></i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Reincarnation and Transmigration</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nemawaschi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 1 - Nemawaschi</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I’ve done a thing. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing yet. I’ve started writing a fanfic” </em></p><p>
  <em> “I love it already” </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>So.</p><p> </p><p>It was like this.</p><p> </p><p>You ever just wake up one day and know it was gonna be a bad day? The sort of day where, later on, you reflect how great of a mistake it was to get out of bed in the first place, I mean. I reckon there’s a few ways for a body to tell when you’re in that way. Maybe it’s precognition or just a self-fulfilling prophecy. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you know you’re gonna have a bad time.</p><p> </p><p>In today's case, I had been woken up by a French woman knocking on my door telling me to get up, and that I was going to be late for school. The fact that I was hearing French didn't bother me, what really got me was that I <em> understood </em>her. I sat up and spun around slowly, taking it all in.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This isn’t my room. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The room was cyan, cold and spartan save for a bed, my desk, some bookshelves, and a massive TV with a few game consoles. Most of the room here was unused. I saw a door to another room, and curtained window that the first few rays of sun were peeking through.</p><p> </p><p>This should have bothered me, but what was I going to do? Collapse on the ground and hyperventilate? It’s not the first time I’ve woken up in an unfamiliar bed. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, this is new.”</p><p> </p><p>Ah. Hello new voice. It didn’t carry as well as my old voice, lacked that… not booming, but that ability to speak and be heard, that resonant baritone… well no. I was completely bullshitting myself there, but the point stayed. This wasn’t my room, this wasn’t my voice, and I was surrounded by cheese eating surrender monkeys.</p><p> </p><p>Spotting a remote on my desk I used it to turn on the TV. The news was about Mayor Bourgeois announcing some new garbage scheme or something. </p><p> </p><p>Mayor Bourgeois.</p><p> </p><p>Ladybug.</p><p> </p><p>Chat Noir. </p><p> </p><p>Miraculous.</p><p> </p><p>I was in Miraculous.</p><p> </p><p>I entered the main floor and wandered around until I found a kitchen. Opening the fridge, I found junk food, soda, and other crap.</p><p> </p><p>Nuh-uh! <em> Definitely </em>not what I want.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, looking through the kitchen, I found a glass and filled it with water from the sink. Hmm, was that a bit of dried blood under my nails? Why’s that there? As I stood there, idly drinking water and just wondering how long it was going to be before an Akuma took a liking to my asshole, I heard footsteps.</p><p> </p><p>From a doorway came a woman’s chokey voice. “Alex, what happened to you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon?” I asked in my most gratuitous French, looking at the mousy woman who was a good head or so shorter than me.</p><p> </p><p>“Your face!”</p><p> </p><p>I touched my countenance and it stung. There were cuts on both sides of my face, almost as if someone had grabbed me hard, their nails digging into me. I looked at my nails; the blood was there.</p><p> </p><p>I blinked.</p><p> </p><p>Had I done that? Had<em> Alex </em>?</p><p> </p><p>With the most stern face I could manage, I looked to her and said, “Some girl was the absolute worst at my video game and drove me insane last night.”</p><p> </p><p>The woman, who I vaguely recognised from somewhere, (Mother? Aunt? MILF girlfriend?) ran through a gamut of emotions, from horror to denial, to anxiety, to finally, carefully composed neutrality. “Ah. Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>We stared at each other as she slowly backed out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>There were hundreds of questions to be asked, but I filed them all under “Endless Ocean of Apathy”, because first, I had to clean these wounds.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>I sat in the shower, boiling water bucketing down on me, and I thought. The bathroom had a sink, toilet, and washer/dryer combo. And boy did the shower go from cold to HO FUCK fast.</p><p> </p><p>I liked that.</p><p> </p><p>My name, or the name of this body, was Alexandre “Alex”, and I lived in Paris, France, with my, hopefully, mother. I had no idea what my last name was, and something told me that I couldn't ask my mother/milf girlfriend either. I hoped it was my mother, but if so, then I dreaded the idea of her. Did Alex have an Oedipus complex or is that just me?</p><p> </p><p>In any case, the calendar in <em> Alex’s </em>room said that I was 13 years old, and enrolled in Collège Françoise Dupont, which started its new school year today. I was 5’6”, broad shouldered, and suffered from what were clearly growing pains. I had black hair, blue eyes, and I could see I had potential as I, uh, aged. </p><p> </p><p>Exiting the shower, all pimples dealt with as much as I was able on the limited timeframe I had, I quickly hopped on the desktop to try and figure out what the heck was going on. And seriously, for 2015, Alex had some serious hardware. I could probably run any Crysis on this thing. The homepage had four folders on it. The Path to Being a Philosopher, Homework, Torrents, and Porn. The first one was porn, as was the second and the third was torrented porn. The fourth was schoolwork, passwords, and other assorted non-porn folders. Comics, games, music and more. What's more, I seemed to be using Internet Explorer like some kind of plebian.</p><p> </p><p>The year was 2015 and the school year had only just begun. I had no homework and my school was supposedly quite prestigious, genuinely the best in the area. I guess it had to be to get Adrien and Chloe to go there.</p><p> </p><p>Armed with this new knowledge, I quickly breakfasted on a croissant (FRANCE) and some milk, before filling a backpack with pencils, notebooks, and a couple bottles of water. My wallet had 50 euros and my, <em> Alex’s </em>debit card, and I knew my PIN, so no worries. </p><p> </p><p>I found Alex’s phone, a pair of earbuds, and got myself dressed. Alex’s wardrobe sucked. I’d need to buy him some thongs and joggers. He also lacked any of the posters I had in my room. Though, to his credit, he didn’t have a single anime bodypillow, though I suspected he would have been only a couple years off getting one naturally. And why did Alex’s wardrobe consist mostly of jeans? Where were the shorts?</p><p> </p><p>Everything in order, I headed outside into the strange air of a strange city in a strange world—a word I knew only from half-watching a TV show from the point of view of a crazy teenage superhero.</p><p> </p><p>Joy.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>I glanced at the clock on my way downstairs, and realised I was 15 minutes late to school. Ah well, fashionably late will ingratiate myself to the students, right? <em> But not the teachers, “Alex”. You're going to need them onside if you want to have a comfortable school life. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Shut up magical voice!” I hissed.</p><p> </p><p>Despite the fact that I had in fact walked downstairs with no trouble, I still felt like I missed the last step entirely. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah.”</p><p> </p><p>The bakery. </p><p> </p><p>I wasn’t just lazily self-inserted into the Miraculous-verse. That would be too simple. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But I don’t know how to bake! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>At least I know why Dupain-Cheng sounded familiar. </p><p> </p><p>“Alex?” (People as big and strong as Tom didn’t need to use proper sentences apparently.)</p><p> </p><p>The big man himself waddled out of the back of the bakery, looking me up and down, concern and surprise creasing his brow. I dimly noted that his apron was covered in flour, as were his hands and shoes. “You haven't already left for school? It started nearly 20 minutes ago! And what happened to your <em> face?” </em> </p><p> </p><p>You know, not a single moment from the show really did justice to just how <em> huge </em> Tom really was. Not <em> one.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Fidgeting like a child with their hand caught in a leprechaun's pot ‘o gold, I decided to go with the old reliable “Nooooooooooothing.”</p><p> </p><p>Shaking his head in parental disappointment, he sighed and turned back inside. Then, seemingly as an afterthought, he called out: “See Marinette during lunch, I gave a box of macaroons to share with her class! She might still have a couple.” </p><p> </p><p>Trying to be polite, (and half to fix whatever loser Alex had done to garner this kind of reaction from his own family), I called out “Bye Mum and Dad! Off to school!” The fact that she didn’t correct me to “MILF girlfriend” meant I was right. The house was pretty nice, all things considered, a bit small, but I guessed that was just the Australian in me talking. We tend to build, wider, not taller, y’see?</p><p> </p><p>Mildly perturbed, I stepped outside and started strolling to the college (thank god it’s so close) I started saying random gibberish, finding how different words sounded in French and generally trying not to sound like a jackass when I opened my mouth. I knew about how arrogant the French could be when it came to their own language. It didn’t accomplish much, but it helped me think. “<em> Ma Bite est pleine de anguilles! Ne cherchez plus mon coeur; des monstres l'ont mangé. Je suis juste un cimetière abhorré de la lune. </em>” Despite being Alex, my accent was still that of an Australian, more specifically, that of an upper class Queenslander, if such a thing truly existed. The kind of accent that would be equally at home at a law firm or yelling racist slurs at minorities.</p><p> </p><p>I liked to think I sounded cultured, but that could have just been me bullshitting myself again.</p><p> </p><p>As I walked down the streets of Paris, I could just imagine Alex waking up in my own body, failing to shave, shower, or brush his teeth. Ruining my social life. Getting attacked by the local wildlife. And even worse, being a moron with a French accent.</p><p> </p><p>My left foot came down hard on a macaroon left on the road, and I grunted, and picked it off my shoe, already thinking of ways I could use it to annoy Chloe. <em> OOH! Sneak it into her sandwich, she’d hate that! </em> That reminded me, I pulled out one of the notebooks and stopped in a park and found a bench. This city sure was okay. I mean, it was a city, and I hated those on principle. City slickers and minorities lived there. The horror, I know.</p><p> </p><p>Shaking my head, I started writing down a to-do list, because seriously, <em> what was I doing here? </em> Alex’s handwriting was a lot nicer than mine. </p><p> </p><p>Make Adrien Agreste my BFF</p><p> </p><p>Stalk Hawkdaddy </p><p> </p><p>Become the coolest kid in school Don’t be a loser </p><p> </p><p>Become the fencing champion of France.</p><p> </p><p>Get Mari and Adrikins on a date</p><p> </p><p>As I gazed  at the Eiffel tower, I tried to think of anything else. A few more ideas came to me soon enough.</p><p> </p><p>Get a pet cat What would I do with it, idiot?</p><p> </p><p>Eat a baguette</p><p> </p><p>Get some half-decent clothes.</p><p> </p><p>Grow out hair</p><p> </p><p>Was I going to need a gameplan to be popular? Exploit meta-knowledge to game the system? </p><p> </p><p>Nah, that sounds hard. Just be nice to them. How hard can that be?</p><p> </p><p>I got up and continued my walk towards college. Jesus, Alex was pale. Like, I was white through and through, but Alex was <em> white. </em> When I first stepped outside, my body’s first reaction was to hiss and cower. (Half-asian heritage notwithstanding).</p><p> </p><p>A few more minutes of walking, and I was in front of the College, and my new life for the next several years. I tried to stay positive. After all, how many people have regrets, or wanted to relive their high school lives again? I never did, but I've been told it’s a common thing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 10 bucks says that this is all going to end in tears. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Unable to quite shake off the overwhelming feeling of dread, I had a nasty premonition that before this was all over, I was going to owe the voice in my head some money. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Edumacashun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 2 - Edumacashun </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “...what the heck just happened? Meet somebody new, check. Introduce myself, check. Sing random song outta nowhere, check. Become instant best friends… uncheck. I don’t get it.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Puddle.</p><p> </p><p>Collège Françoise Dupont sat like a puddle on a dirt road after the midsummer rain. The stairs led up to the entrance like an Aztec temple to the sacrificial altar. All the while, I felt the sun on the back of my neck, beating down like a white trash stepfather.</p><p> </p><p>When you were in a situation like mine, you could only think in metaphors and similes.</p><p> </p><p>I guessed that the Collège had been built in the interwar years between world war 1 and 2, to be as robust as possible in the event of an invasion. It covered every approach and was undoubtedly sturdy enough to hold out for weeks. </p><p> </p><p>But the nature of the building was the farthest thing from my mind at that moment when I meandered my way up the stairs to the front entrance. </p><p> </p><p>“Alex.”</p><p> </p><p>Because there comes a time in everyone’s life wherein they find something that should be simple arduously difficult. </p><p> </p><p>“Al-ayyyx. Al-eeeeex.”</p><p> </p><p>Seriously, how did you pronounce my name? Confound these frenchies, they drive me to drink. Then I remembered that I wasn’t able to (legally) drink anymore and nearly collapsed from despair. </p><p> </p><p>Also, <em> fuck </em>is this body fucked. Alex got winded like a man twice his age and double his weight. Just walking up these stairs had gotten my heart pumping as if I’d just run a dead sprint. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hey ‘Alex’? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, magical voice?” I muttered. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This is an entirely new body, with entirely different weight distribution and proportions. You’ve dropped over a foot in height. How are we walking without any trouble right now?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>That is… an excellent question. Immediately I stopped, and looked down at my body. I didn’t even want to think about my weight, I was so much lighter than my old body I felt anorexic. Alex was a lanky thing, skirting that fine line between being skinny and being underweight, and I was almost certain that girls half his age used to beat the shit out of him and take his lunch money.</p><p> </p><p>With all the terrifying slowness of a baby trying to figure out how best to kill himself with a lemon, a block of cheese, and a dead parrot, I raised my right leg to take a step. But I thought about it too much, and I immediately overbalanced and began a one way trip to the ground. I tried to raise my arms to stop my fall,but I thought about <em> that </em>too much as well. </p><p> </p><p>My last thought before I blacked out was <em> I hope nobody sees this. </em></p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>(—+—)</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Excuse me? Sir? Sir! Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Blinking the lights away from my vision, and trying to will the ground to stop spinning, I slowly raised my gaze to meet - to meet…</p><p> </p><p>Oh me oh my.</p><p> </p><p>To meet an angel. Seriously. The sun just so happened to be behind his head, giving him an almost otherworldly visage as the light reflected in his hair.</p><p> </p><p>Adrien's blonde hair was perfectly quaffed, and I guessed that he was one of those lucky bastards whose hair always seemed to be styled- even when it was messy. His bottle glass green eyes were filled with worry, his face was so handsome sculptors would weep trying to truly do his likeness justice.</p><p> </p><p>His white jacket had some of the finest stitching I’d ever seen. His shirt, to my dull surprise, actually had five coloured stripes. </p><p> </p><p>All in all, I suddenly wasn’t quite as exclusively attracted to women as I thought  I was.</p><p> </p><p>“Uuuhhhhh.” I moaned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Let’s try again, without the caveman speak, hmmm? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, I mean, uhh, hello,” I stuttered.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What is this shit, genetic?! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital? That was a nasty fall!” <em> Adrien </em> ‘motherfucking’ <em> Agreste </em> said.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh, yes. I’m much better now. Thank you.” Wait, shit, gotta turn on the French accent.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure? You’re speaking kind of strange.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Strange?!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! I speak this language good. Me no caveman. Zug zug.” <em> Nice execution.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Adrien let out a shaky breath and offered me a quick, honest smile. “If you can make jokes, you can’t be that badly hurt.” He stood up, and held out a hand. “Need a hand?” He asked.</p><p> </p><p>After a moment, nothing happened. Then, after a second or two, nothing continued to happen. I just stared at his hand and his eyes (his gorgeous, beautiful eyes!).</p><p> </p><p>“I said, do you need a hand?” His smile seemed to be getting a bit forced. </p><p> </p><p>“Right,” I reached up and took his hand, and he helped pull me up. (With all the thoughtless effort of standing up in my own body. Note to self: don’t think about moving)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Quick Alex! Ingratiate yourself to this angel-on-earth! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Shit, what do celebrities like?</p><p> </p><p>“Say, have we met before? You look kind of familiar.” I gave him my best ‘do I recognise you or not’ look, a look which makes it seem as though you are having immense trouble staying awake or that you need glasses.</p><p> </p><p>He laughed, a beautiful, honest laugh that warmed me like whiskey, and I decided I liked him.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you might have seen me around. I’m Adrien. Adrien Agreste.”</p><p> </p><p>I managed to contain my squeal though nothing less than a preternatural effort of will. “Of course! I haven’t seen you here before. Is this your first day at this school?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “Yep. I finally managed to convince my father to let me attend school.” He had a slightly pained look on his face, but still, that was one impressive lie. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, Mister Adrien, would you like for me to show you around? What class do you have?” </p><p> </p><p>“Adrien! What on <em> earth </em>are you doing here? What would your father want?!” Adrien’s… I want to say mother shouted, getting out of a rather swanky car. Adrien's bodyguard was driving, and moved to flank the woman's left. </p><p> </p><p>“What about what I want?” He shot back. </p><p> </p><p>Then we all heard the most peculiar sound. The pathetic sound of an old man falling over. “Oh man, gravity must be all fucky today. Everyone’s falling over.” I muttered. Adrien chuckled, but managed to stop himself quickly, before rushing over to help the man up. </p><p> </p><p>While Adrien was making sure Miraculous Man was okay, an awkward silence settled over the three of us. I turned to the woman and bodyguard. “Mondays, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>The woman coldly regarded me for a moment, then her face softened. “Mondays.” She sighed. The bodyguard nodded slightly, which I figured was the equivalent of a full song and interpretive dance about his feelings.</p><p> </p><p>Adrien plodded back to where we were standing, his head hung low in defeat. “Please don’t tell my father about this.”</p><p> </p><p>Adrien was led back to the car, but when he was getting in I remembered something important.</p><p> </p><p>“Look me up on Facebook!” </p><p> </p><p>“What’s your na-“ then the door shut and he was gone. Fuck, I forgot to give my name. Bad Alex, bad!</p><p> </p><p>With that pleasant distraction over, I decided I’d better get to class.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>Through the door that lay before me came sounds of students learning things, forgetting things, and generally being kids. The door itself was unremarkable, wooden with a tinted glass panel at head height.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well, destiny awaits, “Alex”. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Seemingly in slow motion, I reached out to turn the knob and…</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck!” I hissed. The door had shocked me! </p><p> </p><p>Even worse, I could hear muted laughter coming from the other side! Bastards.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, I shifted my weight and opened the door properly. </p><p> </p><p>The classroom was unremarkable, exactly as I remembered it from the show. Well lit, and I hope you like wood paneling, because it was everywhere. Shaking my head to clear my head of lumberjacks, and the horrifying thought of what exactly a beaver miraculous would look like, I focused on the class.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Adrikins! I saved you a seat ne-“ Chloe, the Queen bitch of Paris herself finally realised who exactly has come through the door and let out a small gasp. “What are <em> you </em> doing here? <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Is that what your mother used to say to you?” I retorted immediately. Wait, shit. That was mean. Gotta make a good first impression on these people. </p><p> </p><p>I briefly glanced around the room, and most everyone was looking between me and Chloe, as though disbelieving that we were talking. </p><p> </p><p>My gaze finally settled back on Chloe. Her lower lip was shaking. <em> Is she…? Oh my god, she </em> is <em> crying.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“How d-dare you speak to me like that! Sabrina!” She stuck up her nose and marched past me out the door, her lackey giving me the hairy eyeball as she passed.</p><p> </p><p>That sweet catharsis I felt was only slightly dampened by the knowledge that I had no idea what set her off. Though at least I knew that “your mum” jokes were a sore spot for her.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Alex! Did the door give you a hard time?” A pink haired girl called out. Short, and with a sly grin on her face, she was definitely adorable. In the way that only a girl who could totally tear your balls off can look.</p><p> </p><p>“The door was merciless and showed no fear…” I intoned with a dramatic flair. “but I did what I had to do.”</p><p> </p><p>The girl opened her mouth to respond when a familiar voice distracted us both.</p><p> </p><p>“Alex? What happened to your face?” Marinette asked.</p><p> </p><p>Meeting her gaze I felt my heart skip a beat. This was Marinette Dupain-Cheng! The main character of one of the most successful 3D animated shows of all time, who had had millions of words of fanfiction, thousands of pieces of fan art, and countless amounts of merchandise sold with her face on it. Her entire character and every action had been analysed and debated by people far more intelligent than I. </p><p> </p><p>She was determined, brave, talented and beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>But at that moment, I realised, she was still just a young girl with a lot of growing up to do.</p><p> </p><p>I managed to recover far quicker than I had with Adrien. “Got into a fight with a stray cat on the walk here. He scratched my face, so I tracked him down for round 2.”</p><p> </p><p>She raised an eyebrow. “And how did that work out for you?”</p><p> </p><p>I smiled. “Well there’s always round 3.”</p><p> </p><p>A ghost of a smile flashed across her face, so fast I almost thought I imagined it.</p><p> </p><p>Alya giggled. “And who might you be?” She asked. She was pretty, and built like a gymnast who gave it up 3 years ago and took up drinking instead. I’m sure the body was still underneath, if you squeezed hard enough. Not really my type, I concluded.</p><p> </p><p>“Marionette! You’ve known this girl for…” I made a show of looking at my wrist where a watch would be, even though my arm was bare. “A couple minutes now, and you haven’t mentioned your brother?”</p><p> </p><p>“What the… <em> Marionette </em>?” Marinette whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“No. No she has not.” Alya smiled. “Well ‘Marionette’. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”</p><p> </p><p>“But why Marionette?” Marinette whispered again. </p><p> </p><p>Deciding that Marinette wasn’t going to be of much use, I figured I had to do my own introductions. </p><p> </p><p>“There are some who call me… Tim.” </p><p> </p><p>Alya laughed again. “Tim?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yep. Don’t know why though, my name’s actually-“</p><p> </p><p>“Alex!” (Anyone who says I jumped is a filthy liar) “If you are <em> quite </em>finished distracting your sister and miss Cesaire would you kindly take a seat?” The teacher scolded. </p><p> </p><p>Holding my hands up to my chest in a mock surrender, I moved to the seat second from the front, behind Nino. My ass had barely touched the seat when the bell rang. “Figures.”</p><p> </p><p>The class started rising to leave, while the teacher (What was her name?) told everyone where they had to be for the next period. Alex, apparently not being the sporty type, didn’t have P.E., thank fuck. I followed Marinette and Alya out the door, being the only people I actually knew. On the way out, I heard the argument between Kim and Ivan, and I was already thinking of ways to get a front row seat to the incoming superhero beat down.</p><p> </p><p>I wonder if I can create my own blog centred around Chat Noir… a sort of yang to the Ladyblogs yin. I wonder what I could call it? Before I could get anywhere else with that thought, I heard someone call my name. Looking over the second floor balcony, my blood froze.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh, I am error... </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“ALEX!”</em> </b> The rock monster screamed. It’s glowing yellow eyes boring into mine, it started stomping in my direction. </p><p> </p><p>Every one  of my new classmates looked at me. “Huh.” I muttered, “That's probably the antithesis of good.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Footnote: Level Up!</p><p>New Perk: Cherchez La Femme - +10% damage to the opposite sex and unique dialogue options with certain characters.</p><p>Comments are craved desperately.<br/>I’ll lick your feet, I’ll wear a collar,<br/>I’ll do anything for a comment</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Hero</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alex fights a Rock Monster. It goes about as well as you’d expect.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 3 - Hero</p><p> </p><p><em> “Oh, this </em> is <em> me being brave! I wanna be brave at </em> home, <em> locked in my closet, with my teddy bear!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Terror. </p><p> </p><p>Terror is a strange emotion, one related to fear, but so much more interesting. To quote someone smarter than me, fear is being chased by a monster, terror is knowing there is something behind you, feeling it’s breath on your neck, knowing you will be grabbed, and then turning around to find that there was nothing there. </p><p> </p><p>Terror was tied to ambiguity and vagueness, something we as a species do not like. When we don’t know if something is off or not, when we’re not sure if something can hurt us or not, that is when we get creeped out. </p><p> </p><p>I felt fear when the monster was stomping towards me. But terror? I had already derailed the show. Anything I might have known about the plot was becoming more useless the longer I was here. I knew in the back of my mind that suddenly, things had just gotten a lot harder in my quest for a comfy life in Paris. So terror was a more than reasonable emotion to be feeling. </p><p> </p><p>But reasonable emotions could go and fornicate with a rake. Who needs them?</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>“Marinette,” I gritted. Rocky was marching up the stairs at the opposite end of the courtyard, trying to reach me on the second floor. “I think school just got cancelled the rest of the day. You may as well head on home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alex. What are you doing?” Marinette asked. There was an air of desperation in her voice. Her eyes, like everyone else’s, were stuck on the akumatised villain making its way towards us.</p><p> </p><p>“Get ready to run everyone! I’m the one she wants. You should hide and get to safety.” I shouted. Hopefully I sounded more confident than I felt.</p><p> </p><p>Chloe’s akumatised form was similar to Stoneheart in shape, I noticed. Though she was slimmer, and she had lighter colours to the brown and grey of Ivan. Her left hand had a death grip on an object I couldn’t make out. Well, at least some things stay the same, no matter what.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Chloe reached the second floor. She paused for a moment to size me up, like a clown sizes up a child to know just how to make sure it burns itself into the child’s nightmares for all time. Seriously. All she needed was some clown makeup and this would be a perfect replica of the first time I went to the circus. Except she was arguably much happier.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Since we were at the corner of the second floor, Chloe was only able to cover one balcony. The other one, leading towards the library was still clear; I would have to make a break for it, I realised. Alex wouldn’t survive a chase through Paris. Hiding would have to be the game plan. I dimly noted that Chloe was moving across the balcony now, laser focused on me. </p><p> </p><p>20 metres.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok everyone, head down the stairs on the count of three! I’ll run to the library and try to lose her.” Some of the class nodded, but most were in a state of shock. Shit. Nothing for it now. I hoped that seeing some of their friends move would jar the rest into action. </p><p> </p><p>“Alex…” Marinette tried. She was shaking, constantly shifting her weight from her right leg to her left.</p><p> </p><p>“One.”</p><p> </p><p>10 metres. I was close enough to see the cracks Chloe left in the balcony, it clearly not being designed to support her weight.</p><p> </p><p>“Two.”</p><p> </p><p>Everyone tensed as Chloe made the last few strides towards us.</p><p> </p><p>“Three!” </p><p> </p><p>Kim, Alya, Pink haired Girl, Nino, That Nerdy boy, Ivan and Marinette all started the mad dash down the stairs. The rest? Well… </p><p> </p><p>“What are you waiting for, a handwritten invitation?!!” I screamed. They were frozen, seemingly stuck to the floor in fear.</p><p> </p><p>1 metre. Chloe was right in front of me. No time! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe’s right arm moving. More out of instinct then genuine thought, I went ducked, lying flat on the ground. I felt the breeze in my hair from the rocky appendage sailing over me. Sadly this small victory was ruined somewhat when I heard a sickening crunch that made me cringe but gave me the strangest craving for celery. Turning, I realised the red-haired boy from the back of the classroom had taken a rock to the face and dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.</p><p> </p><p>The remaining class made gasps of surprise, screams of horror, and assorted sounds of discomfort. Thankfully, it seemed to jar them out of their stupor and they all ran around rocky and down the stairs, leaving me and her alone on the balcony. Chloe paid the panicking mob no mind.</p><p> </p><p>Chloe looked down at me, lying on the ground. I looked up at her, the silence dragging on for an infinite second. Both of us daring the other to move first. </p><p> </p><p>“Say Chlo, did you lose weight? You’re looking great!” I whistled. It wasn’t an actual whistle, because I’ve yet to meet someone that can whistle out coherent sentences.</p><p> </p><p>An inarticulate scream of rage escaping her rocky face, she raised her right foot to crush me right there on the balcony. I rolled, stumbled to my feet, and took off running, all in one fluid motion, narrowly avoiding her foot and looking cool while doing it.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p> Ok, I flailed around in an awkward pile of limbs and it was sheer luck I found myself upright, but still!</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“ALEX!” </em> </b> She screamed again. <em> At least I’ll never forget my new name. </em></p><p> </p><p>Reaching the end of the balcony in record time, I glanced back at Chloe, and to my pleasant surprise she was moving about as fast as a giant monster made of rocks should. (Read: Not very) I shot her my best smile, gave a theatrical bow, and, deciding that discretion is the better part of valour, made my way into the Library. </p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> So. Alex. We’re in the library. What’s the plan for getting out again? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>To be honest, I was hoping Ladybug would have shown up by now. Or at least the military. But the magical voice did have a point. Chloe had Kool-Aid manned through the door, barely giving me enough time to crouch behind one of the bookshelves just to the left of the entrance. </p><p> </p><p>“<b> <em>YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER ALEX!” </em> </b>Chloé yelled. She was moving around the library, scanning every nook and cranny.</p><p> </p><p>Bitch, just fuckin’ watch me. I laid lower out of reflex when she began knocking over bookcases, making them fall over like dominos. Luckily, she had started on the right hand side of the library, giving me a moment to think. I imagined myself just ducking around her, quickly making my way out of the library while she was busy taking out her rage on innocent books.</p><p> </p><p>Chloe's frequent room scanning killed that idea. Several times, I felt for sure she would have seen me, but it seemed she was being about as observant as… hey magical voice, what’s the most unobservant thing you can imagine?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Right now? Chloe Bourgeois. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Chloe was being about as observant as Chloe!</p><p> </p><p>Shaking my head to clear it of shitty similes, I retreated further in the library, keeping as low to the ground as I dared. Chloe, meanwhile, apparently bored of knocking over bookshelves started moving up the stairs to the second floor. Fuck. Gotta go now. </p><p> </p><p>Thinking quickly, I grabbed a book off one of the shelves (<em> The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire Part IV </em>) and heaved it into the opposite corner of the room. It soared with all the grace of a drunk eagle, and landed on the ground with a deafening thud. Chloe immediately ran to check it out, giving me a chance to leave the library. I silently crept on the balls of my feet towards the destroyed door. Five metres. Four. Three. Tw-</p><p> </p><p>*crunch*</p><p> </p><p>My blood froze. My heart felt as though it was going to beat it’s way out of my chest.</p><p> </p><p>A stick. </p><p> </p><p>There was a fucking stick in the library. There was a fucking stick under my foot. I had stepped on a fucking stick. There was a fucking stick, in the fucking library, and I had fucking stepped on it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Must you be so vulgar? It doesn’t make you sound cool or smart, you just sound childish. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Eat my cunt out!” I retorted like a cool, smart, and definitely not childish adult. </p><p> </p><p><em> Should </em> not <em> have said that out loud. </em></p><p> </p><p>“<b>WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME YOU LITTLE BITCH?! I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW I-“ </b></p><p> </p><p>I tuned out Chloe’s ranting, and, running off instinct, grabbed the stick off the ground and held it in front of me like a sword. “Chloe! Give it up before I kick your ass!” I shouted.</p><p> </p><p>Quicker than greased lightning, Chloe snatched the stick out of my hand and snapped it between her fingers, letting the two halves fall to the ground. </p><p> </p><p>I looked at the two twigs on the ground for a moment, then I forced a smile I didn’t feel onto my face. “Now I’ve got two sticks! You may as well give up!” I announced triumphantly.</p><p> </p><p>To my vague disappointment, she didn’t respond. Faster than I could react, she took hold of me by the right arm, lifting me until we were eye to eye. She squeezed. I let out a strangled grunt. I imagined I could feel the bones in my wrist cracking under the force. I desperately clawed at Chloe’s hand with my left arm, but to no avail. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh well. I hope Marinette and Adrien have better luck than we did. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>No! We gotta buy more time! No way am I dying to a tantruming child! But for once, I didn’t have anything. No witty retort, no shitty jokes, no plan. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Chloe!” I heard a familiar voice cry. A bit of red blurred in the corner of my eye.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh thank fuck. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A book bounced off Chloe’s head. It was… red. ...wait... what. Oh no.</p><p> </p><p><em> Marinette </em>stood in the centre of the library, a pile of books next to her. “I don’t know how you got like this Chloe, but if you don’t let Alex go right now, I’ll…” she trailed off. Apparently finally realising what she had just done.</p><p> </p><p>So had I, to tell the truth. Because in that moment, I suddenly realised exactly why she was such a great hero, willing to throw down with supervillains even without powers to save lives. “Marinette!” I cried. My voice shook. “I thought I told you to head home.” She ignored me.</p><p> </p><p>Chloe unceremoniously let me go, letting me fall to the ground clutching my arm. Marinette started unleashing a hailstorm of books on Chloe, all just as ineffective as the first. Chloe advanced until she was just a few feet from Marinette. </p><p> </p><p>“Had enoug-“ Marinette began to say, a nervous-but-trying-to-be-brave look on her face.</p><p> </p><p>The next few moments happened in both a blur and slow motion. </p><p> </p><p>To my shock, Chloe backhanded Marinette so hard she went flying, throwing her into a pile of broken books and wooden splinters. My heart was in my mouth, my throat felt like it was closing up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit what do we do now. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Chloe watched Marinette lie there for a moment, then nodded. She slowly turned to face me again, triumph written on her face. No one was more surprised than I when I heard myself speak. “I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to do it.” I snarled. “But I’m going to make you regret that.”</p><p> </p><p>Chloe just stood there. Silent as a ghost. Deadly as a plague. She clenched and unclenched her fist. “<b>Nowhere to run, Alex.”</b></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Great, we’ve got her attention. What was step two? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was no time to think, to imagine what would happen now that Marinette was very likely dead. To imagine the infinite ways that Chloe could get revenge for a goddamn ‘Your Mum’ joke. There was only time to act. I looked at the windows, then to the bean bag chairs from the study corner. It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t even sane.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh, god. You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you? And don’t even think of lying, because I’m you, and you’re me. I hate this body. Can I get a new head, one who isn’t self destructive and insane? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up magical voice,” I hissed. “To the ground floor!”</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I hate you. I cannot believe how much I hate you. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah yeah, laugh it up.” I groaned. My eyes were shut; the pain was extraordinary.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> We are covered in glass and we just fell out of a building onto a bus! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. That bus literally saved our life.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I literally hate you. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I literally do not care. Besides.” I smiled. “That was pretty fucking awesome.”</p><p> </p><p>Cracking one eye open, I glanced up at Chloe, silently observing me through the broken window. She stood like that for a moment, then jumped down onto the ground with a sound like two rocks violently humping each other.</p><p> </p><p>She stood on the sidewalk, looking at me for one more moment. Seemingly satisfied, she stomped off, leaving me alone on the street. Hopefully Marinette was still alive. A faint hope, I thought.</p><p> </p><p>Something made me turn my head, and to my surprise, I saw Alya standing on the other side of the street, recording me on her phone. I gave a little wave,but my right arm made its protests clear. I let it fall to lie limply by my side, seemingly at least fractured. <em> Oh man, high fives are gonna suck now.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Hey. At least we jerk off left-handed.</p><p> </p><p>I breathed heavily for a few moments. Slowly standing up, I tried to feel if anything else was broken. My left ankle was definitely not happy with me. I did just fall a story,  bean bag chairs or no. So, right arm out of commission, left ankle broken, there were small cuts all over my body from the glass shards, and my shirt had more holes than the average fanfiction plot, but other than that?</p><p> </p><p>Just peachy love. </p><p> </p><p>The miraculous cure and it’s healing properties should let me get away with abusing this body, right? Sighing, I slowly slid off the bus, trying to put as much weight as I could on my right ankle.</p><p> </p><p>I figured that since this world was based on a kids show, I could probably get away with stuff that would kill a normal human. And trust me, I was going to abuse the hell out of it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Are we forgetting that Marinette might have just been fucking killed by Chloe’s motherfucking pimp-slap? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I am not. I think we both know what has to happen now. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Alya!” I tried to yell, though it came out sounding like a pathetic gurgle. I cleared my throat. “Hey Alya!” I tried again. It was quieter than I would have hoped, but she still managed to hear me. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alex?” She asked, racing over to me. “You look terrible.” </p><p> </p><p>“I feel terrible.” I sighed. Shaking my head, (dislodging some glass from my hair), I got back on track. Idle chatter could wait. “Can you help me get back home? I think my leg is broken.” I grimaced.</p><p> </p><p>“Your leg is broken?!<em> ”  </em>She shrieked. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, not so loud! My ears are fine, thank you very much!”</p><p> </p><p>She had the good grace to look a bit guilty. “Uhh, right, ok. Sure. Put your arm around me.” I put my left arm around her, and we started making slow, painful progress back towards my house. Alya frowned for a moment, looking at me with uncertainty. </p><p> </p><p>I sighed. “You can ask you know.”</p><p> </p><p>She cringed. “What happened in there? Marinette said she was going back in to help you, and the next thing I know, you’re jumping out of windows!” She gestured vaguely at the broken glass.</p><p> </p><p>I quickly filled her in, basically giving her a list of my injuries and inwardly enjoying her slowly growing shock. Of course, I couldn’t tell her about Marinette. I just said that she distracted Chloe long enough for me to get away before she ran off herself.</p><p> </p><p>“So to summarise. Your leg and arm are probably broken. Marinette is gone. Nathaniel might be dead. Actually dead. You’re bleeding from a dozen small cuts. On to my shirt. ” She listed after I finished. She would likely never get the stains out.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Sorry about the shirt. Bones are replaceable, but good shirts are a dime a dozen. If it makes you feel any better, mine is ruined too.”</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her face. “How can you make jokes at a time like this?” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s a gift.” I said, shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>Alya was quiet the rest of the trip.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>It took 5 long, painful minutes to hobble my way back to the bakery with Alyas help. But there were still a few obstacles before I could get to Marinette's room.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Alya, can you go in and check if my parents are there?” I asked. </p><p> </p><p>Alya looked at me uncertainly, then hesitantly nodded. I took my arm off her shoulder to lean against the glass. The closed sign in the window was displayed. She quickly stuck her head in the front door, and turned back to me. “They’re not there. They must be upstairs.” She bit her lip. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”</p><p> </p><p>I smiled. “Relax Alya. I’ve lost, like, half a litre of blood.” My grin widened. “Actually not even that. I haven’t lost any, it’s right there on your shirt.” </p><p> </p><p>She sighed, looking down at the blood-stains and back up to me. “I was referring to your two broken limbs.” She said slowly.</p><p> </p><p>For the last time, I put my arm around her and she helped me inside, holding the door open for me. Eventually reaching the base of the stairs, I grimaced at the herculean task that would be hopping up three flights. Especially in Alex’s body.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks for the help,” I began, choosing my words carefully. “You should get back to your place. Don’t want to get stuck outside with a super villain on the loose.”</p><p> </p><p>Alya looked like she wanted to argue. I thought she would, for a moment. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em> fine </em>, Alya. Just let me speak to my parents alone. Please?” </p><p> </p><p>She hesitated. Then nodded. “Get Marinette to text me when she gets back, ok?” </p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” I agreed. I watched her leave. She gave one backwards glance when she got to the door. I caught her eye and gave her a wink. A ghost of a smile flashed across her face, and she was gone.</p><p> </p><p>My broken arm was a dull throb. My broken ankle sent lances of pain up my body whenever I put too much weight on it. My chest had stopped bleeding. My shirt was unsalvageable. </p><p> </p><p>Mustering my willpower for one last effort, I started hopping silently up the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>Tom and Sabine didn’t hear me come up, engrossed as they were in the news. It was almost romantic, seeing them hold each other for support, watching a rock monster rampage through Paris. </p><p> </p><p>Getting into Marinette's room was a challenge with one leg and one arm, especially the trap door, but with a final heave it opened. I waited a moment to make sure that Tom and Sabine didn’t hear, then moved up into the room, closing the trapdoor afterwards.</p><p> </p><p>I lay there for a moment, gulping down air, basking in my victory. “What fuck happened?” I sighed. “Everything had seemed so sugary and nice right up until a few minutes ago.”</p><p> </p><p>My right leg, my unbroken one, was sore, singing me a thousand promises of pain to come tomorrow morning for making it carry me so far.</p><p> </p><p>After what felt like forever, I slowly made my way to my feet. After few short hops, I let myself fall into the chair at Marinette's desk. And there on the desktop, resting ever so peacefully, was a small wooden box, decorated with intricate red carvings.</p><p> </p><p>I hesitated, then opened it slowly, and was nearly blinded by the light emanating from the box. Shielding my eyes, I watched it fly around me a couple times, then finally settling in front me. The glow faded, leaving a small, red creature floating in front me.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hello </em> !” Tikki chirped. “<em>I’m Tikki, and I’m your Kwami!</em>” Her bubbliness was like a force; filling the room with her optimism. She was probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen, and yet, something was strange about her, niggling at the back of my mind.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hello yourself, Tikki! I guess you can call me Alex. </em> ” I replied. I paused. “<em>You know, this is the last thing I expected today.” </em>That feeling of strangeness persisted.</p><p> </p><p>Tikki laughed. “<em>You’d be surprised how many times I’ve heard that.</em>” She shook her head. “<em>That’s not important though. I’m here because you’ve been chosen to wield the Ladybug Miraculous!” </em></p><p> </p><p>She flew around me, taking in my injured form. <em> “Looks like you’ve already met the super villain! Don’t worry about the arm and leg, the transformation makes you unable to feel any debilitating pain.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hang on,” </em> it hit me what was bugging me. “<em>You’re speaking English. How?”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>We Kwamis always speak in the language that the listener is most familiar with.” </em>She explained. </p><p> </p><p>I shrugged. “<em>Makes sense.” </em>  I held up the Ladybug Earrings. “<em>So how does this work?” </em> I cringed. “<em>Please tell me these are clip ons.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Tikki grimaced and shook her head. Somehow, I didn't like where this was going. “<em>The guardian should have chosen someone who already pierced their ears. We can’t afford to waste any time!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>As if on cue, police sirens raced past the bakery. Tikki and I paused to watch them go. When they were out of sight, I turned back to the earrings. Picking one up, I examined it closely. Nothing else for it, I realised. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But where can we get our ears pierced right now, on such short notice. Especially with a rock monster rampaging through the streets! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I looked at the mannequin in the corner of the room, then to the sewing machine on the desk.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...Oh goodness no. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I’m afraid so.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hey Tikki, can you do me a favour? Downstairs, in the kitchen, can you find some disinfectant? Or at least something alcoholic. It should be at least 60%.”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “What? But… oh, I see.” </em> She phased through the floor, disappearing for a second or two, then reappearing. “<em>I can see why you were chosen. Not many people would be willing to do this themselves.” </em>She gave me an encouraging smile, then disappeared again.</p><p> </p><p>I cringed. Standing up slowly to not agitate anything, I moved to the sewing machine and picked up a sewing needle. I swallowed . </p><p> </p><p>There was a knocking from the trapdoor. “<em> Tikki?” </em>I whispered.</p><p> </p><p><em> “It’s me!” </em> She called back. I gingerly hobbled over, opening the trapdoor and letting her in. She was carrying a plastic bottle as big as herself. “ <em> I found this bottle labeled ‘Methylated Spirits.’ Is this ok?” </em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>That’s perfect, thank you.” </em>Covering some spare cloth with the spirits, I used it to wipe down the sewing needle. Swallowing, I tried to prepare myself for this. Some girls I’ve talked to said they barely felt it, others said they cried. I was about to find out which category I fell into.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Tikki, I’ve got a broken arm. I’m going to need some more help.” </em>I explained. To her credit, she barely hesitated, grabbing the sewing needle and tissue in her hands. </p><p> </p><p>She rubbed down my earlobe with the alcohol, irritating it slightly. Then she braced my ear against a wad of spare fabric. “<em>You’ll feel a little pinch, ok? Nothing to worry about.” </em></p><p> </p><p>I nodded. </p><p> </p><p>She was right. There was a little pinch. I grunted, but other than that, it was surprisingly ok. Either that, or my pain receptors were so busy in my arm and leg it wasn’t getting the attention it deserved. I felt Tikki attach one of the earrings to my earlobe. She quickly flew around to do the other one, which hurt a bit less.</p><p> </p><p>By the time she was done, I felt a sense of excitement I hadn’t been expecting. I guess the promise of becoming a superhero can raise any spirit.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ok, so all you have to do is capture the Akuma to purify it. Then everything will go back to the way they were before” </em>Tikki explained,</p><p> </p><p>I hesitantly nodded. <em> “Listen, Tikki. You should know something, before we go. I’m not the chosen wielder.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Tikkis froze, her smile shrinking. “<em>What?” </em></p><p> </p><p><em>“I think</em> <em>my sister Marinette was chosen, not me . This is her room.” </em>I gestured vaguely. “<em>She was injured by the monster. Maybe even killed.” </em>Tikki looked at me with mounting horror. I continued. “<em>But I’ll give it to her as soon as we win, okay! Everything will go back the way it was before, right?”</em></p><p> </p><p>Tikki wasn’t reassured. “<em>Alex, the less people who know your identity, the better! The guardian might even take away the miraculous from both of you!” </em></p><p> </p><p>I remembered Marinette in the library, selflessly facing down Chloe. I shook my head. “<em>We don’t have a choice. We’re out of time Tikki.” </em> I stood up. “<em>Besides, I think you’ll really like Marinette.” </em>I finished. I tried to give her an encouraging smile</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I suppose.” </em> Tikki muttered. “<em>Ok, to transform, just say ‘Transform me’! Oh, and don’t forget your power, lucky charm. It’s handy in a pinch.” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Alright. Here goes nothing. Tikki, transform me!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>There’s a word you need to remember when you’re in a situation like mine, when everything and everyone conspires against you. When you’ve got a broken leg, broken arm, dead or dying sister, and bleeding from multiple cuts, there’s just one word you need to say to escape it all.</p><p> </p><p>One word with one syllable that expressed everything I needed to express…</p><p> </p><p>Can you guess what it is?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Footnote: Level Up! </p><p>New perk: School of Hard Knocks.</p><p>Jesus Christ, man! How have you not, like, died of a brain haemorrhage or died of pulmonary edema or something. Or, in fact, how are you still alive at all? Probably because of this perk! With training from the School of Hard Knocks, all limbs are now 25% harder to cripple. Enjoy 25% more pain before your limbs give out, a total of 25% more suffering!</p><p> </p><p>I am a dirty, dirty slut for comments. I need them to breath.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Villain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is dedicated to Branded_Lunacy, who started suggesting possible ships and ended up being the inspiration for the gayest thing I’ve ever written.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 4 - Villain</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You needed worthy opponents.” </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>‘Strengths’</p><p> </p><p>That was the word.</p><p> </p><p>That’s what was going through my mind as I transformed. The city of Paris needed a hero. They got Alex. I wasn’t some ‘chosen one’. I didn’t have a mystical birthmark that foretold my greatness, nor was I the only one capable of wielding some great power. I wasn’t even a part of some great prophecy. </p><p> </p><p>I had only <em> inherited </em> the Miraculous, not truly <em> earning </em> it like Marinette or Adrien had. </p><p> </p><p>But maybe that didn’t matter.</p><p> </p><p>The only important thing right now was ‘Could I defeat Chloe?’. If I couldn’t, people could be hurt, or even killed. I had to be strong. I had to see this fight through to the end.</p><p> </p><p>Strengths.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Power! </p><p> </p><p>The magic washed over me, and I felt <em> power. </em>My entire body felt stronger, faster, more agile. It was as if this body was working for me, like the muscles I’d been used to had unionised, but this new body was willing to work for half their wages and didn’t have pesky unions to trouble me with.</p><p> </p><p>I felt… </p><p> </p><p>I felt like I could take on the whole world!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Just Chloe will do for now. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, of course,” I said quietly. “But first…”</p><p> </p><p>I did some stretches. The pain of my leg and arm were gone, I realised, just like Tikki said! Hopefully, the suit would hold my body together long enough to finish the fight.</p><p> </p><p>I flexed my broken hand, opening and closing it, testing my grip strength. Spotting a pencil, I held it in between two fingers. I snapped it like a twig.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Truly, the world will sleep easier now that this diabolical villain is defeated. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right, I need a worthy opponent.” I turned to the mannequin in the corner. “Hey there, Mr Mannequin! Thank you for volunteering for power testing. Hold still please.” From a standing start, I did a roundhouse kick that sent the mannequin flying into the wall, made my proverbial inner 6 year old squeal, but also made my very real leg pop and crackle ominously. Probably shouldn’t push my broken limbs too far. </p><p> </p><p>I was struck by the terrifying image of myself as nothing more than a bag of organ mush, held together by my costume. Shaking my head, I figured that at least my body would be easy to collect for burial.</p><p> </p><p>My yo-yo was wrapped around my waist. Unholstering it, I gave a few test swings, getting a feel for the weight. Yet again, the poor mannequin volunteered itself for a demonstration. I threw the yo-yo at the mannequin, using it as a projectile. There was a satisfying *thunk* when it connected. Success! Swinging the yo-yo around for a moment, I tried to tie the mannequin up this time, imagining I was immobilising a human. The yo-yo responded easily and quickly, effortlessly wrapping it up in a BDSM enthusiasts dream.</p><p> </p><p>I sauntered over to the mannequin, now dented and broken. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for your service, Mr Mannequin. I shall now call you William, for reasons only I may know.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why are you talking to mannequins when you’ve got me, the friendly voice in your head? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Well magical voice, that’s because shut the fuck up and let me congratulate William.</p><p> </p><p>With a final nod at my new friend, I looked down at the blatantly magical yo-yo in my hand. I mentally filed it under ‘Captain America’s Shield’, where other objects that didn’t obey the laws of physics dwell.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling pretty proud of myself, I turned to the full length mirror, holstering my yo-yo. Time to either finish building my confidence or shatter it completely.</p><p> </p><p>Taking a deep breath, I stepped in front of the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking.” I breathed. “Awesome.”</p><p> </p><p>My costume was simple, I thought. <em> A lot like you, Alex! </em>My hands and feet were a solid black, ending a few inches under my elbow and knee, giving the illusion of gloves and boots. Wrapping around my waist was more black, looking like a belt. Running up my sides, from the belt to just under my arm, was another black pattern. The rest of the suit was that plain ladybug pattern, red with black spots. Plain without being understated. Striking but not gaudy. </p><p> </p><p>What really caught my eye though was the padding all around the body, giving the appearance of lean muscle. I guess you can’t really look like a superhero when you’re as skinny as Alex.</p><p> </p><p>I couldn’t help but smile, taking it all in. It was pretty much the coolest thing ever. I really looked like a superhero!</p><p> </p><p>Shaking my head, I climbed onto the bed. Sparing a glance at the cat body pillow while opening the trapdoor, I moved up onto the balcony. My heart felt as though it was trying to claw its way out of my chest, whether from nerves or excitement, I couldn’t tell. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> We only have to do this once, remember. Then we can give the Earrings to Marinette. Just… try to relax, and have a little fun. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I took a deep breath. Then the yo-yo was flying, and I was off.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t hard to track Chloe. Follow the trail of destruction, listen for the screams… she was a giant rock monster, it wasn’t exactly complicated.</p><p> </p><p>Landing on a nearby rooftop, I wandered over to the edge and kneeled down. I rubbed my chin. My costume felt strange on bare skin.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What did Marinette do again? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>To tell the truth, I didn’t remember. It had been months since I’d watched that episode. In fact I’d only seen season 1, and even then, that had been months ago. I was well and truly in uncharted territory right now.</p><p> </p><p>Wait. Why do I care what Marinette did? I was my own man, dammit, I can do this however I wanted! All I had to do was break the akumatized object, right? So work backwards from there.</p><p> </p><p>The beginnings of an idea began to coagulate in my mind. Absently, I took out my yo-yo and started tinkering with the functions. Phone calls, video chats, gps, rebreathers, internet access… </p><p> </p><p>Accessing the gps app, I tried to find a tracking function that would let me find Adrien. When I did find it, I did a double take. “What… this is saying he should right on top of me.” I muttered. Wait. Oh no.</p><p> </p><p>“Incoming!”</p><p> </p><p>I barely had time to look up before a black cat crashed into me from above. We rolled across the rooftop, and, in accordance with the universal law of comedy, we came to a halt with him on top of me.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment we just looked into each other's eyes, one pair blue, one pair green. After a few seconds of us not saying anything, I figured I’d take the initiative.</p><p> </p><p>“So… you must be my new partner. Nice of you to drop in.” I said. I tried to force a smile on my face, but it was surprisingly difficult in our current position,</p><p> </p><p>“And you must be… hang on.” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were going to be a girl.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, nope. Got a penis, thank you very much.” I blinked, looked down, and back up at Adrien, “And, uh, I can tell you do as well. I mean, I don’t mean to be a Negative Nancy, but, uh, these costumes are pretty tight, you know. And I don’t mean to make any assumptions about your, uh, sexuality, but this is pretty gay in the most literal way possible.” I looked down at where our hips met. “I mean,” I swallowed. “I guess some guys like it, but, uh, I don’t.” I cleared my throat. “Like, it was bad enough today when my arm and leg got broken, but now your penis is trying to do the worm with mine and that’s very uncomfortable.”</p><p> </p><p>He blinked. “Dude, what the fuck?”</p><p> </p><p>“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. So why don’t you get off me and we’ll start this again without penis fencing, ok?” I smiled. “Actually, certain species of monkeys do that. It’s rather mesmerising to watch.” I shook my head, then affixed him a hard look.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Adrien got off me and stood up. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you insane?” </p><p> </p><p>I shrugged, a movement that was surprisingly difficult on my back. “It’s a possibility I haven’t ruled out yet.” I said while standing up. I took a pose, hand on my chin. “I mean, seriously, I hear voices.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yes! I am acknowledged! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>No, you’re just a figment of my boredom!</p><p> </p><p>Adrien rubbed the back of his head. “Oh. Well. That’s interesting I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded. He nodded back. I nodded again, harder this time. He mimicked it. In seconds we were two jackasses just shaking our heads at each other on a roof.</p><p> </p><p>Adrien laughed at me, and I laughed back at him. Neither of us spoke - I, waiting for him to speak, and him, just staying silent. </p><p> </p><p>“So, what do I call you? I’ve just been calling you ‘partner’ in my head.” He said eventually.</p><p> </p><p>“Good question.” I tapped my chin. “It’s not like there are many good names for a guy with ladybug powers.” I snapped my fingers. “Mister Bug!”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “I don’t think so.”</p><p> </p><p>I stuck my tongue out at him. “Ok, fine, killjoy. Just call me Ladybug then.” I’m only doing this once, I don’t need a good name.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” He gave me a questioning look. “You’re going with Ladybug? It's a bit… feminine, dontcha think?” </p><p> </p><p>“Hey! When Villains hear ‘Ladybugs coming!’ they’re going to be looking out for a girl!” I stuck my fist on my chest. “So the last thing they’ll be expecting is me! Besides, what about you, hmm?”</p><p> </p><p>“Call me…” he paused, “Chat Noir.” He said proudly.</p><p> </p><p>I smiled. It felt good to hear him say that. “Well then, Chat Noir, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” </p><p> </p><p>We shook hands. “Ladybug, I think this is the start of something beautiful.” I cringed internally, but I managed to stop it from showing on my face. “No homo.” He finished. </p><p> </p><p>I laughed, slapping him on the back. “Come on, Chat Noir” I said, walking to the roof's edge. “Paris won’t save itself.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, following me to the precipice. </p><p> </p><p>“One last thing.” I added when he was next to me. “Let’s never speak of our first meeting to anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed.” He said immediately.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>“What are you thinking?” Chat asked.</p><p> </p><p>“That a tricycle is basically just a unicycle with training wheels.” I responded.</p><p> </p><p>“I meant about the Supervillain tearing through Paris.” He paused, looking straight ahead at nothing in particular. “But thanks. That’s going to keep me up at night.”</p><p> </p><p>I blinked. “I've gotta admit, that does make more sense.”</p><p> </p><p>Chat and I were shadowing Chloe, trying to think up a plan for taking her down. The police had attacked her several times trying to slow her down, their efforts being at best ineffective and at worst counter productive; She still grew bigger and stronger with every attack just like from the show. She was a towering 2 stories tall now. Still manageable, if challenging.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” I began. “We only have to break the object in her hand, right?” </p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “Right.”</p><p> </p><p>“So I say we do something to make her drop it.” </p><p> </p><p>Another nod, more hesitant. “Makes sense.”</p><p> </p><p>We looked at each other. The silence stretched on. He rather looked as though he was hoping the wind would catch his hair just so, making it wave heroically. But to his disappointment, the wind was off messing with some leaves a couple metres away.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you…” he tried to find the right words. “Have any idea how to do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m open to ideas, Chat Noir.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I was thinking that…” he stopped, intensely listening for a moment. “Do you hear that?”</p><p> </p><p>I listened. Even with my empowered senses, I couldn’t hear anything. “No?”</p><p> </p><p>He hummed, then cautiously moved to the roof's edge. I stayed still and silent; it seemed appropriate.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, he got to the edge, looking down. “Hey Ladybug.” He whispered. “It’s  looking right at me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like, <em> at you, </em>at you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” He turned back to me. “What should I do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, the first thing to do is to not panic. It’s more afraid of you than you are of it.” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think that’s correct, Ladybug.” </p><p> </p><p>I thought for a moment. “I think you might be right. I was thinking of bobcats.” </p><p> </p><p>He raised an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Do you always think about cats in life threatening situations?”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, I’m usually thinking about dicks.” I said, thinking about dicks.</p><p> </p><p>He just stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. “That’s… not remotely important right now, is it?”</p><p> </p><p>I shifted my weight. “I suppose. Is she still staring at you?” </p><p> </p><p>There was a horrible crash that sounded like a 1000-year-old building having a violent orgasm. It was followed by smaller, but equally violent orgasms.</p><p> </p><p>“No. She’s climbing up the side of the building now.” He said helpfully. “Do you have an ETA on that plan?” One of Chloe’s rocky fists came into view, grabbing the ledge. </p><p> </p><p>“To be honest Chat, I’m thinking about just winging it, you know?” Chloe’s head popped up. Without missing a beat I threw my yo-yo into her eye. She screamed, letting go of the ledge and dropping to the ground, clutching her face. “Like that, for instance. Is she still holding the akumatised object?”</p><p> </p><p>Chat looked over the edge, then back at me. “Yep. Death grip, too.” He turned back. “In fact, she just grew a bit bigger. Is that normal?” </p><p> </p><p>I shrugged. “Probably. Let’s take this opportunity to agree not to hurt her anymore, hmm?” </p><p> </p><p>“Fair enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Another crash. I waited for the inevitable follow up, but it never came. I opened my mouth to form a question, then it felt as though the whole ground was shaking. There was an earth shattering <em> boom </em>behind me.</p><p> </p><p>“<b>YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT, LITTLE BUG!”</b></p><p> </p><p>Roll.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Roll. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Roll! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Barely dodging the appendage that came down like the fist of god, I grabbed the yo-yo and was flying in moments, desperate to put some distance between myself and the Giant Rock monster that I had just personally pissed off <em> again. </em></p><p> </p><p>Chat Noir was by my side in moments, vaulting and jumping to keep pace with my discount spider-man movement. “Hey.” He said, in between breaths. “How do you think that went?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think it was pretty even, to be honest.” I replied, hurdling a chimney.</p><p> </p><p>He looked back. Chloe was jumping over rooftops, and worse, she was gaining!</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” He asked incredulously. “Because it looks like she’s got you on the run.” </p><p> </p><p>I gave him a flat look. “Don’t get smart with me, Chat Noir, it doesn’t suit you.”</p><p> </p><p>He laughed. “You’d be surprised how many things suit me.” </p><p> </p><p>Chloe landed right behind us, shaking the building we were running on. Chat lost his footing for a second, but I managed to grab him and drag him for the few metres it took for him to regain his balance.</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t working. Split up!” I shouted. Chat nodded, turning to his right, away from me and Chloe. She ignored him, hellbent on catching me, for the second time today.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You know, if I had a dollar for every time a giant rock monster took personal offence to my existence, I’d have 2 dollars. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Looking forwards, I noticed a very particular landmark we were moving towards. “Of course. The Eiffel Tower. Where else would we have our Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny?” And for the record? The Eiffel Tower loses a lot of its charm when you’re being chased by a giant rock monster who wants you dead. </p><p> </p><p>I tried to jump off a roof with my left leg, instead I nearly collapsed when it gave out from under me. Fuck! I righted myself in mid-air as well as I could, but I was still on a direct course for an apartment window, not the roof I was aiming for.  I curled into a ball, shattering the window, spraying glass all over a very surprised couple having lunch together. “My condolences.” I called back to them.</p><p> </p><p>I came out into a hallway, running the length of the building. I picked a random door, shoulder bashing it down. Inside was a middle-aged man eating a baguette and smoking a cigarette. I snatched the cig from his mouth, stopping in my mad dash. “Smoking kills,” I intoned, throwing it on the ground. I was out the window again in a moment, just long enough to hear him shout: “Hey!”</p><p> </p><p>Really stepping on the gas to make up for lost time, I managed to outpace Chloe, putting some distance between us. I didn’t look back of course, but her continuing screams of rage sounded further away.</p><p> </p><p>I ducked into a nearby alley, crouching being a dumpster. I peeked my head out, catching a glimpse of Chloe looking around for a moment, before moving on. It wouldn’t fool her long, but I just needed a moment to still my beating heart, a moment to mentally prepare myself. A moment to plan. I swallowed, and was flying again.</p><p> </p><p>Leaping the last few rooftops before the Seine, I was struck by an idea. Landing on <em> D’lena </em>bridge, I had scant few seconds before Chloe caught up. I hastily brought up my yo-yo, calling Chat Noir. It rang twice, then picked up.</p><p> </p><p>There was heavy breathing on the line for a moment. I was about to start talking, but whoever was on the other end beat me to it. “This number is supposed to be unlisted.” Came a deep, gravelly voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sorry about that mate. I was trying to call my friend.” </p><p> </p><p>“No problem.” Came the reply, then he hung up. </p><p> </p><p>I redialled, taking great care to actually call Chat this time. It rang 5 times. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve reached the Noir Diner, where the food isn’t good but the faces are. How may I help you?” Came the voice from the speaker.</p><p> </p><p>“Chat Noir, I’ve lured her to the Eiffel Tower, get over here right now!” I yelled. “I’ve got a plan that might-“</p><p> </p><p>“Ha! Voicemail!” The voice suddenly spoke. I was absolutely dumbfounded, staring open mouthed at the receiver. “You know what to do.” It continued. There was a beep.</p><p> </p><p>“How does.. you’ve only… CHAT NOIR, I WILL JAM MY FIST UP YOUR URETHRA AND FIRMLY GRASP YOUR BLADDER, I SWEAR TO GOD! <em> FIRMLY GRASP IT!”  </em>I screamed. “NOW GET YOUR MANKY HIDE OVE-“</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” Chat said from behind me. </p><p> </p><p>I spun, performing a 180 degree backhand that sounded like music to my ears. He yelped in surprise, falling on his ass.</p><p> </p><p>“Never, <em> ever, </em>do that again.” I spat. My face softened, a smile reaching my lips. “Though, now that I think about it, that was actually pretty funny.”</p><p> </p><p>Rubbing his cheek, he stood up. “What was pretty funny?” </p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, don’t worry about it. Delete your voicemail as well, please.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked like he wanted to press the point further, but thankfully, something finally went right today, and Chloe reappeared for round 3, hurdling the final buildings before the bridge.</p><p> </p><p>“Chloe!” I cried. “You’re actually the person I wanted to see!” She ignored me, stomping towards us on the middle of the bridge. “Hey Chat,” I whispered. “Cataclysm the bridge. Like, the whole thing.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes widened. He looked at Chloe, rapidly crossing the distance between us. His face hardened, and he nodded. ”Cataclysm!” Not waiting around, he slammed his hand down on the bridge. In seconds, the decay and destruction spread like a spider's web across the bridge, causing it to creak and groan. </p><p> </p><p>“Hold on.” I said, grabbing Chat with my right arm, and using my left to throw the yo-yo at the Eiffel Tower, carrying us to safety (Chat noir held on tight). I set us down on the river bank, on solid ground.</p><p> </p><p>I turned around to watch the bridge continue to disintegrate and crumble. Chloe looked confused for a moment, but managed to pull herself together quickly. Preparing to do another jump, she crouched low. And…</p><p> </p><p>The bridge finally gave way beneath her, making her <em> sink like the fucking stone she was to the bottom of the Seine. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Ha! See!” I chirped. “I love it when a plan I just made up and have been pretending to follow this entire time comes together!” I slapped Chat Noirs back. “Now, for Phase 2 of Operation: Prison Showers™.”</p><p> </p><p>“...what was that name?” Chat asked. I ignored him. “And won’t she grow even bigger now?” I ignored him harder.</p><p> </p><p>I walked to the edge, looking directly down into the water. “Come on Chloe.” I muttered. “If I knew it was going to be this easy I would’ve spouted a one-liner before dunking you.”</p><p> </p><p>The water began to churn and bubble, first in little amounts, then in much, much bigger amounts. Chloe’s rocky head broke the surface. “<b> <em>GONNA KILL YOU! GONNA SQUASH YOU!” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Digging her hands into the banks, she pulled herself out of the Seine, water cascading down her body. She looked like a Titan of ancient myth. She absolutely towered over myself and Chat Noir, easily being able to crush us with one stamp of her foot. The water displacement meant a miniature tidal wave crashed over the banks, getting mine and Chats feet wet.</p><p> </p><p>“Just according to Keikaku.” <em>Translator's Note:</em> <em>Keikaku means plan. </em>“Hey Kitty-Kat,” I said sweetly. “Can you pass me your Baton? I need it for Phase 2 of Operation: Prison Showers™.”</p><p> </p><p>He immediately brightened. “Oh! Now I get it!” He passed me the Baton, a proud look on his face. Looking up to match my gaze with Chloe, I tried to find a flaw in my plan. The magical voice was making it’s protests clear (<em> Plans have… Plan stuff!) </em>, but I ignored it. Huh. Is that a news or police helicopter circling around us? Come to think of it, that’s a lot of helicopters. </p><p> </p><p>I jumped back, dodging a rocky foot. “Come on Chat Noir, if we hurry, we can make the evening news.” Sparing one last glance at Chloe, I led him to underneath the Eiffel Tower. </p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Who would’ve thought Chloe had a flair for the dramatic? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>No one. Except every single person who’s ever met her. It took us scant seconds to reach the base of the Eiffel Tower. Chloe was taking it slowly, stomping towards us as though she had all the time in the world. </p><p> </p><p>Something, of course, had to be done.</p><p> </p><p>“Adrien Agreste isn’t that good looking!” I hollered, thinking quickly.</p><p> </p><p>She stopped in her tracks, an appalled expression on her face. “<b> <em>WHAT?! HOW DARE YOU!” </em> </b>And just like clockwork, she charged.</p><p> </p><p>A little note about the miraculous weapons. If both parties agree to it, it’s possible to control the functions of one with another. Chat’s baton was nestled in the struts of the Eiffel Tower, waiting for my signal. Everything was going perfectly. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Chloe! I hope you packed your bags!” </p><p> </p><p>I thumbed a button on my yo-yo, sending a command to the baton to start extending. In moments, it stretched to the other strut- perfectly in between Chloe’s legs.</p><p> </p><p>Shock, horror and surprise warred for supremacy on her face as she flew through the air. Out of reflex, she extended her arms to stop her falling forward, and…</p><p> </p><p>She crushed the rock in her hands with her own body weight.</p><p> </p><p>“Cause you’re going on a <em> trip!” </em>I finished.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t move from her spot on the ground, whether from losing her power, or embarrassment, it wasn’t clear. Cracks spiderwebbed out from underneath her.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow.” I breathed. I felt a little light headed. “I’ve always wanted to do that, spout a badass one-liner and then stylishly defeat some great villain. It’s, like, always been a personal dream of mine.”</p><p> </p><p>I wandered over Chloe, still face down on the ground. A black butterfly emerged from between her fingers, trying to escape. Her akumatized form melted away, leaving a small girl in a large crater. “Plus,” I added. “Spouting a one-liner pretty much proves I’m the hero.” I ran my finger up the yo-yo, unfolding it to reveal a softly glowing white light. </p><p> </p><p>If anyone saw my face at that moment, I’m sure I would’ve been admitted to the psych-ward on the spot. My smile was honestly threatening to split my face in half. </p><p> </p><p>“Time to de-evilise!” I swung the yo-yo, capturing the Akuma. “Gotcha!” The yo-yo unfolded itself again, letting the now purified white butterfly go, sunlight reflecting in its wings. </p><p> </p><p>“Bye bye, little butterfly.” And to be honest? I was feeling so magnanimous from my victory that I didn’t even hold any sort of grudge against Chloe. I moved over to her, kneeling down and holding out a hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Here miss, let me help you.” I was struck by the mental image of Adrien earlier today, doing the same for me. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. “Are you ok?” </p><p> </p><p>She slowly raised her head off the ground, eyes shut tight. After a moment, she opened them, letting out a small gasp when she saw me. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lifted her hand to my own, and I helped her up.</p><p> </p><p>I brushed some invisible dust off her shoulder, and held both her hands in mine. “Take it easy, Miss Bourgeois. You’ve had a hard day.” A slight nod was her only reaction. I gave her an encouraging smile. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wanna fuck with her?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I raised her hand to my lips, kissing the back of her hand. She let out a small “eep!”, an adorable blush rising to her cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...what the hell was that? That’s not what I meant at all! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I mentally shrugged. It helps to be the good graces of powerful people. </p><p> </p><p>“Umm, Ladybug? Can I talk to you for a second?” Chat asked from behind me. I looked at him and nodded. Turning back to Chloe again, gave her a wink (kicking the blushing into overdrive) and walked over to Chat Noir.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s up?” I asked. I dimly noted the stern expression on his face, completely at odds with the Chat I knew.</p><p> </p><p>“I just…” he shook his head, jabbing a finger into my chest. He was taller than me, I realised. “Why did you wait until we got to the Eiffel Tower to do that!? You just <em> tripped </em> her! You could have done that at any time! Someone could have been hurt! Or even <em> killed</em>. What were you thinking?”</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Shit. “Hold that thought.” I said. I didn’t have a lucky charm (which I was honestly pretty proud of), but I figured the yo-yo could work just as well. “Miraculous Ladybug!” I tossed my yo-yo into the air, and was almost surprised when the swarm of ladybugs burst outwards. The bridge, rooftops, even superficial damage to the Eiffel Tower was repaired in an instant as the ladybugs did their work. A swarm even lingered around myself, repairing my arm and leg. Maybe even fixing my shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“That is so goddamn cool.” I muttered.</p><p> </p><p>“Awesome.” Chat whispered, so quiet I could believe it was just meant to be a thought.</p><p> </p><p>Even Chloe seemed to find her voice. “Wow.” Well, little steps, I guess. Soon she’ll be saying full sentences like a four-year-old!</p><p> </p><p>I imagined Alya at that moment, her own shirt would be cleaned of my blood. Hopefully she would still create the Ladyblog. I genuinely hoped she did, I didn’t want to be responsible for <em> that </em>much of a change.</p><p> </p><p>I stood there, silently watching the light show, then shook my head. “To be honest Chat,” I said eventually. “That’s just when I happened to think of it. Dunking her in the river? That’s just because it was funny.”  News trucks were starting to arrive, as well as police vans and cars. The helicopters were still flying overhead, recording everything. </p><p> </p><p>“Besides.” I added, “It was a showdown at the Eiffel Tower! It was just the most dramatic thing to do!” </p><p> </p><p>Chat stared at me, considering my words. “Huh.” He said eventually. “Now that I think about it, I can’t fault you for that logic.” He put a hand to his chin. “In fact, it’s about as airtight as anything could possibly be.” He smiled, seemingly mollified. And then he held up his fist. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I fist bumped him. “Pound it!” We said at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> YYYYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, all of this was totally worth it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quest Complete: A Rocky Relationship.</p><p>30% to next level.</p><p>Level Up!</p><p>New Perk - Combat Pragmatist: Fights have rules. Well, some of them. People might even follow them. </p><p>Heh. Suckers. Honourable combat is not something you ever learned. This grants a combat bonus of +10% damage on all attacks that would typically be seen as dirty. Eyes, genitalia, sucker punches, and more!</p><p>Authors note: This chapter has been the bane of my existence for a month. It’s gone though more rewrites by itself than every other chapter combined.</p><p>AND I’M STILL NOT HAPPY WITH IT!</p><p>(As always, comments are craved desperately, for I am a harlot for them.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Victory...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 5 - Victory…</p><p> </p><p><em> “Nnngh, no! Tuesday morning, the disaster! Incoming</em>!<em>” </em></p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Singing!</p><p> </p><p>It has a way of keeping up morale, I find. It was important when life got you down, when nothing seemed to be going your way. But it also was a great way of showing happiness, when you just can’t help but start belting a tune. To shout out to the whole world that you were happy! </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Well you can tell by the way I use my walk </em></p><p>
  <em> I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tikki was hiding somewhere in my ribcage, my backpack was forgotten back in Collège Françoise-Dupont. I positively <em> strutted </em>down the streets of Paris, emphasising certain lyrics with physical flourishes. Twirls, finger snapping, everything. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Music loud and women warm, I’ve been kicked around </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Since I was born.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I ducked into a bakery, waiting patiently in line. After Chloe’s rampage, only the most brave or foolhardy Parisians were out on the streets. Finding a bakery that was even open was a challenge. But hey! At least I got to explore more of the city!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “But now it’s alright! It’s okay! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And you may look the other way!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And by the way? Alex <em> could not sing. </em> The kid, I finally decided, had literally zero redeeming qualities. But hey, I’ve done more with less before.</p><p> </p><p>The server narrowed his eyes when I got to the front of the line. “<em> Putain d'Anglais.” </em> He muttered. I pointed to the things I wanted (cookies, macaroons, and some species of slice that looked absolutely delicious.) and paid with my, <em> Alex's </em>debit card.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Parle-moi de ça. Juste le pire.” </em> I said in my best French. His eyes widened, a small redness rose to his cheeks. At least he had the decency to look ashamed. With almost indecent haste, he handed me a brown paper bag with my purchase. I took it graciously, shooting him my best, honest smile. “ <em> Merci.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Leaving the store, treasures in hand, I started moving in the vague direction of home. A small crowd had gathered around an electronics store, watching the news on the display TV. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>HEROS OF PARIS: ‘LADYBUG’ AND ‘CHAT NOIR’ STOP SUPERVILLAIN RAMPAGE</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The screen proudly displayed myself and Chat, waving politely to the crowd, until his ring started beeping and he had to split. The image changed, this time to me helping Chloe to her feet. I had already seen the same picture in several different news outlets. By tomorrow, it would be on the cover of every newspaper.</p><p> </p><p>Chat and I, leaning over the edge of the Seine for any sign of Chloe.</p><p> </p><p>An amateur video, capturing the moment when threw the yo-yo into Chloe’s eye, throwing her from the building. </p><p> </p><p>A security camera, barely catching us as we ran past and away from Chloe. She landed a moment later, shaking the camera, dislodging it from its stand, sending it to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>I switched my gaze to a different tv, with a different channel, showing Mayor Bourgeois in a hastily put together press conference. Chloe was by his side, some life back in her eyes. “<b>I’m sure Paris can breathe a sigh of relief, thanks to these new superheroes, who so bravely saved the city, and my daughter, from herself.”</b></p><p> </p><p>A cut to myself, only moments after Chat had to leave. “<b>Well, what can I say? I’m just glad that this city is safe.” </b> Is that really what Alex looks like? Shit. He looked good in that costume. “ <b>But while I’m here, I do have a public service announcement.” </b> Screen me swallowed, getting as serious as I could. <b>“This is going to happen again.” </b>Consternation in the crown, reporters uncertainly looking at each other. Grim looking police officers stiffening.</p><p> </p><p><b>“The person we’re fighting, the man behind all of this? He preys on negative emotions. Uses them to create these super villains. Fear, jealousy, anger, they’re all the same.” </b> Screen me tilted his head, as though listening to something. My earrings had beeped, but it hadn’t been picked up by the microphones. <b>”I’m gonna have to cut this short, sorry.” </b> Screen me took out the yo-yo, swinging it in a circle. “ <b>Just know that whatever happens in the future, a hero will be there to save the city until we can put a stop to this.”</b></p><p> </p><p>Very deliberate word choice there. I wanted to make this easier on Marinette, when she took over. Not saying ‘myself’, just ‘a hero’. Try and make it easier for the public to accept a one-time superhero. </p><p> </p><p>The news went on to discuss possible strategies for future attacks, whether or not Mayor Bourgeois was suited to the crisis, whether or not a couple of kids could be relied upon to save Paris.</p><p> </p><p>But hero stuff was neither here, nor there right now. Right now, I was just another kid, strolling through Paris, with a <em> huge </em>weight off my shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “We can try to understand </em>
</p><p>
  <em> New York Times effect on man!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hence, the singing. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Whether you’re a brother, or whether you’re a mother  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it was just a product of a near-death experience, but all my senses felt fine tuned. Colour, smell, and sound just felt so <em> beautiful </em>to me. Even my breathing felt better, like I simply had more air in my lungs to laugh and sing with. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yet you’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I stopped in a park, and found a bench. I sat down and got comfortable, stretching my legs out, food just to my side. I took a deep breath, letting out all the tension from today’s adventure. </p><p> </p><p>I rapped my knuckles on my sternum, <em> shave and a haircut, two bits. </em> Tikki popped her head out of my chest in a very uncomfortable reference to <em> Alien. </em> She looked both ways before flying out the rest of the way. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, I bring the gift of cookies.” I held up the paper bag so she could see. She nodded graciously, flying inside and exiting a moment later with a cookie in her mouth, and a macaroon in each hand. </p><p> </p><p>“So, Tikki, thanks for the help back there. Couldn’t have done it without you.” I took out one of the slices. Caramel, if I was any judge. I chewed on it thoughtfully while I reflected on today.</p><p> </p><p>Tikki finished the cookie in her mouth before responding. “<em> Well done, Alex. I knew you could do it.” </em>Where before she was a bottomless pit of optimism, right now she threatened to depress even me.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hey! I just took down a supervillain. That’s cause for celebration in my books. </em> ” I said, patting her head. “ <em> No one likes a Debbie Downer, you know </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I guess.” </em>She replied. She looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>Silence reigned Queen Bitch for a moment. Lacking any real things to say, I figured I’d steer the conversation towards where I was the hero and just saved Paris. And then to me giving the Earrings to Marinette.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Listen, Tikki.” </em> I offered. “ <em> I’m sorry that I’m not who you thought I was. But there was no other way. There wasn’t anyone else who could take over. Just…” </em> I paused, then continued. “ <em> Don’t worry, ok? I’ll just give the Miraculous to Marinette, and everything will be ok.” </em>I was suddenly struck by the image of god rolling a 1 on that Charisma check.</p><p> </p><p>Tikki looked at me with sad eyes. She opened her mouth to respond, then her sad look turned to surprise. Quizzically, I turned around, and was met with a tiny Asian man in a flowery Hawaiian shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, hello sir.” I said, in a much higher pitch than I thought Alex was capable of. I cleared my throat. “Are you... enjoying this beautiful day as well?  Almost makes it worth a supervillain cancelling school, if I get to appreciate this.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t respond. He only raised his eyebrow, giving a pointed look at Tikki. “That’s... that’s my Tibetan Flying Cat, they’re very rare.” I explained.</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “This is not how I expected today to turn out.”</p><p> </p><p>The corner of my mouth twitched. “Welcome to the club.” </p><p> </p><p>An uncomfortable silence settled over the three of us. I got the distinct impression that he was waiting for me to start speaking, but the petty little shit in me wanted to keep him waiting. Thankfully, the more mature part of me prevailed. “Say, do you look familiar? I feel like we’ve met before.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes widened fractionally. “No!” He said hastily. “Not at all.” He took a deep breath. “Look, there are a few things I need to explain to you.” </p><p> </p><p>I cocked my head, giving him a silent que to continue. <em> Cocked is such a great verb. </em> “My name is Master Fu. I’m the guardian of the Miraculous.” He extended his hand. I shook it.</p><p> </p><p>“Maximus Doomhammer Freud, advocate of prostate exams and knight of the pentagonal table.” I offered. “But please, just call me Max.”</p><p> </p><p>If he had any thoughts or opinions about my nonsense, he gave no sign. This made the voices in my head sad. “It’s good to meet you, Alex.” He said levelly.</p><p> </p><p>My eyes narrowed. “What else do you know about me, Fu?” I mean, so long as he doesn’t know <em> the big one, </em> we should be fine, right?</p><p> </p><p>Right?</p><p> </p><p>“I know that you’re the brother of Marinette, my chosen champion. I know that you got your ears pierced on the spot to save Paris. And I know that you never wanted this responsibility.” Throughout my life, I’ve found that weird thoughts would flow unbidden through my mind if I opened the door for them. Sometimes useful things, even. Now though, it was different. For the first time in this meeting, I wasn’t thinking of something more interesting. He suddenly had my complete and undivided attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Then…” I thought. “Will you let me give the Miraculous to Marinette? I think she’d do a better job than me.” I laughed awkwardly. “It’s like you said, I don’t even want it!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at me, the silence stretching on for an infinite second. </p><p> </p><p>“Alex. I think that that’s the exact reason why you could be a great hero.” He said slowly. </p><p> </p><p>I blinked. “Pardon?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right. You don’t want this responsibility.” He put a hand on my shoulder. <em> Bad touch! </em> “A hero needs to be humble, not think that they’re more important than others. Someone who doesn’t see this is a <em> privilege, </em> but a <em> responsibility. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>A thousand thoughts and feelings fought for supremacy in my head. That I couldn’t take the miraculous, I don’t want it. That I didn’t want to stand between Marinette and this opportunity. That this kind of responsibility would stress me out. That Ladynoir was my ship of choice and I didn’t want to get in the way. That I was just some guy who stabbed himself with sewing needles. That the Earrings didn’t go with my civilian outfit.</p><p> </p><p>That Marinette <em> was </em>Ladybug, and was a much better Ladybug than I could ever hope to be. </p><p> </p><p>But bringing that up, bringing <em> any </em>of that up, could reveal more about me than I wanted. I didn’t want them to even guess about who and what I really was.</p><p> </p><p>Could I do that? Was I selfish enough to stand between Marinette and her destiny, just because I didn’t want to answer some pointed questions?</p><p> </p><p>“Master Fu.” I said eventually. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. But… I will trust your judgement.” I reached, up fiddling with the Earrings. Somehow, I took some strength from that. “So… I guess what I’m saying is… I’ll do it.”</p><p> </p><p>Fuck, I totally was.</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, an encouraging smile on his face. “I know you won’t let me down, <em> Ladybug.” </em>He looked me up and down, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want to change the name?”</p><p> </p><p>I shrugged. “I’m comfortable with my gender.”</p><p> </p><p>“Quite so.” </p><p> </p><p>He nodded, gave an encouraging smile, and turned to leave. Tikki and I watched him go, retreating into the distance. I then said the most appropriate response in the history of forever.</p><p> </p><p>“Well fuck.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>Singing.</p><p> </p><p>It was a good way to keep up morale.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You owe me 10 bucks. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>0% to next level. You didn’t do shit this chapter.</p><p>Authors note: Please, never expect an update this quick again. I just had so much leftover stuff from last chapters drafts I could shit this out in two hours. Oh, and next chapter will be from someone else’s POV. Get keen!</p><p>And of course, as always, hit me with them comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Bonus Chapter - Wifi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My birthday was a couple days ago, so in celebration, I wrote this dinky little idea! This isn’t the teased second POV I mentioned before, just something I thought was funny 😛</p><p>(Also this is not a direct follow-on from last chapter, just a snippet from the future)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bonus Chapter - Wifi</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Alex.” Alya said.</p><p> </p><p>I blearily looked up from my lunch, my gaze meeting hers. She had a notebook splayed out on the table in front of her, the pages crammed full of notes, thoughts, and half-baked ideas for the Ladyblog. “I think Chloe might be Ladybug.” </p><p> </p><p>I stared. </p><p> </p><p>“Alya.” I said slowly. “Chloe was Akumatised. And she killed, like, two people.”</p><p> </p><p>She blinked. Then she let out a huff, ripping out the two pages she had been working on, scrunching them into a ball.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Another day saved.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I rewatched Lady Wifi the other day. Alex hasn’t got time for your borderline retarded ideas, Alya.</p><p> </p><p>  <strike> also yes this is the canon version of what happened in that ep <strike></strike></strike></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Cutscene - Thinking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What a ludicrous experiment of a chapter. I experimented with different narrative voice, writing something that isn’t funny, writing flashbacks, and... well... you’ll see.</p><p>Your regularly scheduled Alex will resume next Chapter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cutscene - Thinking</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “But perhaps you didn’t have the whole story.” </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p><em> “ </em> <b>All of Paris is celebrating tonight, as the supervillain is defeated. The monster rampaged through the Parisian streets for over an hour, seemingly invincible, until two new superheroes, pictured here, stopped it. Mayor Bourgeois had this to s-”</b></p><p> </p><p>Switch.</p><p> </p><p><b>“My point is, they are just two kids. You wouldn’t trust a kid with a gun, would you! So why should we trust </b> <b> <em>two</em> </b> <b> kids with superpowers? Are we supposed to trust them with the safety of the city? ‘Ladybug’ said this will happen again. And what does the Mayor do? Throw a celebration?! He should-”</b></p><p> </p><p>Switch.</p><p> </p><p><b>“I struggle to imagine the trauma these two are going to go through. I sincerely hope their parents are aware of what their kids are doing. Some might be thrilled that their kids are ‘So mature’ but trained soldiers can have trouble coping with this. And if these kids' parents </b> <b> <em>don’t </em> </b> <b>know? If these kids are going to be doing this indefinitely without any kind of support network? I can only-”</b></p><p> </p><p>Switch.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Does anyone else feel as though these two heroes aren’t as close as we might have first thought? Look at this helicopter footage from the bridge. Ladybug pulled off a 360 degree bitch slap. It doesn’t even look as though he apologised. And later on, after they’ve defeated the Mayor's daughter? Chat looks pissed off with Ladybug. I can only hope they sort out their differences before the next attack.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Switch.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“So, like, did anyone catch the muscles on these two boys? I think they’d be beating the girls off with a stick in their civilian lives! Plus, I reckon that that ‘Chat Noir’ could pull off a pretty convincing Adrien Agreste. But I think most girls would just want him to pull off that leather catsuit, hah-”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“He’s a kid, you sicko!”</p><p> </p><p>Switch.</p><p> </p><p><b>“The Internet works fast, is what I’m trying to say. #Ladybug and #Chatnoir are trending, and hundreds of memes and gifs have been created from virtually every recorded second of the fight. </b> <b> <em>Especially </em> </b> <b>from the ‘climax’ of the fight, or the duo literally just tripping the Supervillain. Here are a few of our favourites…”</b></p><p> </p><p>The show played a super-duper slowed down version where she could see the full glory of her classmates' defeat. At the end, the video faded to red and the word “WASTED” appeared in the center of the screen.</p><p> </p><p>Marinette laughed for the first time that day. She made a mental note to save some of them to her phone for later viewing. Especially for whenever Chloe started to act even worse than usual.</p><p> </p><p>Outside, the thunderstorm continued, providing excellent background noise for her web surfing. </p><p> </p><p>A text message notification drew her attention away from the screen. She muted the sound on her desktop.</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: How are you feeling?]</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She didn’t know what she was doing here, in this library. She should have run with the others. The thing that used to be Chloe positively towered over her, gazing down, judging her. Those glowing eyes seemed to take her in and figure her out in an instant, determining whether or not she was a threat. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>Marinette drank some of her hot chocolate before responding. Her hands were shaking, the weight of the mug off-setting it somewhat. She took a few deep breaths, listening to the rain outside.</p><p> </p><p>[Marinette: I’m ok]</p><p> </p><p>[Marinette: Just a bit shaken up]</p><p> </p><p>She went back to channel flipping while she waited for a response. It came 20 seconds later.</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: k]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: I’m here if u need to talk]</p><p> </p><p>Marinette smiled. She had only known Alya for a few hours, but it felt as if they’d been friends for years. She tried to think of a good response, but Alya was already continuing.</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: Did Alex tell you that I ran into him outside school?]</p><p> </p><p><em> That </em>caught Marinette's attention. Alex had been acting strange in class. Joking, interacting with people. He had made a good first impression on Alya, even. He was almost like a completely different person. </p><p> </p><p>But, she remembered, when he finally came home from whatever adventure he’d been having in the city, it was like a switch had been flipped. He was… almost depressed. He had only given her a sad smile when he walked in. When their parents confronted him about where he was, he only gave a token explanation to mum and dad. ‘Watching the superheroes’ He’d said.</p><p> </p><p>Her first thought had been that he was in a state of shock after what happened in the library, but that lack of reaction he gave to seeing her killed that idea. Something was bothering him, and whatever it was, it wasn’t her.</p><p> </p><p>Alex was a boy defined by his almost legendary apathy. Now, though, he had gone from energetic and friendly to distracted and anxious. </p><p> </p><p>In the space of less than 24 hours, Alex had been 3 completely different people.</p><p> </p><p>Not to mention those awful scratches on his face that he had yet to explain.</p><p> </p><p>[Marinette: No. What happened?] </p><p> </p><p>Alya didn’t respond, only sending a video. She opened it, watching the little dot pattern circle around as the video loaded. It started playing.</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit!” She screeched. </p><p> </p><p><em> Never </em>could she have imagined her brother doing something like that. Distracting a rock monster was one thing. But jumping out of a third story window onto a bus was so completely beyond her mental picture of Alex it was almost impossible to reconcile. Typing was difficult with her shaking fingers, but she managed.</p><p> </p><p>[Marinette: Holy shit!]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: ikr??]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: the guy was TOUGH too. He said he had a broken arm AND broken leg, and he bled all over my shirt,]</p><p> </p><p>“What the <em>fuck.</em>” Marinette breathed. Alex was, well, kind of a bitch, to put it lightly. He hated needles. He flat-out refused to play contact sports. Actually, he didn’t even like to go outside unless he had to. </p><p> </p><p>[Alya: he asked me to help him back to your house]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: he told me you got away as well, come to think of it]</p><p> </p><p>What? This was just getting stranger and stranger. Alex had <em> watched her die. </em> Did he just want to spare Alya the hurt feelings? She didn’t know what to make of that, whether she should be impressed or angry.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She heard herself talk. It hadn’t even been a conscious decision. “Had enough?” She tried to say. Chloe cut her off by smacking her into a destroyed bookshelf. Marinette hadn’t even felt the hit. She lay in a pile of destroyed timber and paper, her broken body refusing to respond. The only sound she heard, bizarrely, was the sea, like there was a conch shell next to her ear. She blinked. She was seeing things in black and white. She could feel her entire body preparing to shut down, and knew that in the next few moments, she was going to die. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>Her hand was shaking so terribly she dropped her phone. Her hands felt weak, and she couldn’t pick it up again. She took some more deep breaths. She got her breathing back under control.</p><p> </p><p>She picked up her phone.</p><p> </p><p>[Marinette: Can we talk about something else?]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: sure]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: what do you think of Paris’s newest superheroes?]</p><p> </p><p>To tell the truth, Marinette was still trying to figure out what exactly her thoughts were. Even if she wasn’t as big of a superhero nerd as Alya claimed to be, she still acknowledged that it <em> was </em>pretty cool to have Superheros in Paris. And she was grateful to Ladybug, of course. He had literally brought her back from the dead, after all. But if what the Hero had said was true, that there would be further attacks, then life in Paris would never be the same. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t the superheroes that bothered her, but what they represented. </p><p> </p><p>Still, there were a few positives that came to mind.</p><p> </p><p>[Marinette: Chat Noir is pretty cute]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: we’re all a little thirsty for a leather cat boy ;)]</p><p> </p><p>Marinette snorted, blushing slightly. A good way of putting it, she thought.</p><p> </p><p>[Marinette: You would be pretty excited for some real life superhero’s, huh?]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: girl, you don’t know the half of it]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: I’m halfway through creating a blog about them actually]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: I’m thinking ‘The Ladyblog’]</p><p> </p><p>[Marinette: It’s got a nice ring to it]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: that’s what I thought!]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: I was totally going to track the hero’s down and get footage of the fight, but I had to go home and get a new shirt thanks to your brother.]</p><p> </p><p>A particularly loud clap of thunder made Marinette jump in her seat. She shook her head, taking a moment to gaze out her window. The city skyline would light up whenever thunder flashed overhead. Paris, yet again, was stunning and inspiring her with its beauty. </p><p> </p><p>She sipped her hot chocolate again, sighing when she found it empty. The sigh turned into a yawn, and she realised how tired she was. </p><p> </p><p>[Marinette: Alya, I’m gonna go to bed. See you tomorrow?]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: ok]</p><p> </p><p>[Alya: see you tomorrow!]</p><p> </p><p>Marinette clicked off her phone, turned out the light, and climbed the ladder to her bed. She did not dream.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>With a solitary grunt, Marinette opened her eyes. It was still dark, the thunderstorm now a light shower. After nearly half a minute of mental self-encouragement, she managed to sit up.</p><p> </p><p>Yawning, she crawled out of bed and down the ladder. She fumbled with the trapdoor in the dark, the call of nature growling. </p><p> </p><p>She crept silently down and out of her room, tip-toeing to the bathroom. She reached out to turn the knob and…</p><p> </p><p>“Ow.” The door had shocked her. She sighed, opening the door properly. She felt around in the dark, trying to find the light switch. “Where the he-“</p><p> </p><p>“And so then what happened?” Came a soft, melodious voice from downstairs.</p><p> </p><p>Marinette's blood ran cold as a chill went down her spine. Slowly, with infinite care, she crept across the room and out the door, looking down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>She relaxed slightly when Alex spoke. “And then, I just tripped her. It was pretty much the coolest thing ever. Hang on, it should be online. Give me a moment Tikki.”</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Alex spoke. His voice sounded distant and muffled, as if it were being shouted from behind a wall. Marinette could only just make out the words. “I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to do it, but I’m going to make you regret that.” She blinked, forcing her eyes to focus on Alex. His face was pale, and he clutched his arm to his chest. His teeth were gritted. But Alex’s eyes were laser focused on Chloe, matching her gaze easily.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Then her head fell back, her eyes closed, and she knew no more. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>“Wow!” The first voice (Tikki, she supposed) spoke again. “You didn’t even need a lucky charm. You definitely have a… straightforward approach to problem solving.”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell?<em>”</em> Marinette mouthed. She sniffed, smelling the unmistakable scent of peanut butter. </p><p> </p><p>She moved further down the stairs, stepping over the creaky stair third from the bottom. The light was on, the telltale sounds of food preparation emanating from the bakery. She ducked behind the doorway, letting her listen in on the conversation.</p><p> </p><p>There was silence for a moment. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, I can’t hear it, but I have a strange feeling that you dropped a one-liner while doing that.” Tikki giggled. There was a pause. Marinette swore she could hear the sound of chewing. “Alex, you know you didn’t have to bake cookies for me, right? I understand why you didn’t want to tell me about Marinette.”</p><p> </p><p>If Marinette had any second thoughts about eavesdropping on her brother, that pretty much destroyed them.</p><p> </p><p>“I… wanted to apologise, Tikki. I lied to you. I guess this is my way of saying sorry.” There was a clattering of Tin trays and cooking utensils. “With cookies.” </p><p> </p><p>“Alex, you don’t have to say sorry. You showed that you had what it takes to be a hero. I know that you’re still upset about Marinette, but you seriously didn’t have to get up at 3am to bake me cookies.”</p><p> </p><p>Marinette's mind whirled, and she stopped focusing on the conversation. What, <em> exactly, </em>was going on?</p><p> </p><p>Her brother was speaking, bringing her back to reality. “What does it say about me that my least favourite part of this gig is that the Earrings don’t suit me at all?” He laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you wear them well!” Marinette stuck her head around the corner, if only to satisfy her curiosity. A small, red bug… mouse… bug-mouse was hugging Alex’s cheek. Their eyes were shut, thankfully.</p><p> </p><p>Alex stiffened. “Oh god. I just remembered something.” Marinette ducked her head back, only letting one eye peek around the corner while Tikki let go of Alex’s cheek. “I left an embarrassing voicemail on Chat Noirs phone.” He put a hand to his chin. “If only I knew someone who had experience with that kind of thing.” He said in a wry tone.</p><p> </p><p>“Um…  are you referencing something?” Tikki questioned.</p><p> </p><p>Her brother shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, just the ramblings of an old nerd, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>Tikki scrutinised Alex’s face. “...Tikki?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I think I’m beginning to understand you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>“When you get nervous, you start palavering. It’s a very strange defence mechanism. Sort of cute, in its own way.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex shot her a heavy lidded stare. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay to feel nervous!” Tikki added hastily. “I’d be more concerned if you didn’t, you know. You’re going to make a <em> fine </em>Ladybug. It’s not going to be easy, but I know that you can do it!”</p><p> </p><p>“You really think so? No matter how good I might be, I’ll still feel like I just stole this from Marinette. She would have been great.” He smiled. “Simply the best.” There was an unmistakable aura of sadness in those words, a certain <em> weight </em>to them.</p><p> </p><p>“You can't let <em>might have beens</em> interfere with what <em> is, </em>Alex.” Tikki admonished.</p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of what <em> is </em>...” Alex began. It was a naked attempt to change the subject. “I think I left my bags in my locker. Do you mind if we transform to pop into the school and get them back?”</p><p> </p><p>“Alex, the Miraculous aren't meant to be used for selfish purposes!” Tikki warned.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! This isn’t selfish! Just a… mundane utility, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>Tikki hummed. “Ok. But <em> only </em>to get your bags.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks Tikki, you’re the best. Transform me!”</p><p> </p><p>There was a flash, almost blinding Marinette. When she blinked her vision clear, it was no longer Alex standing there, but rather the Hero of Paris, Ladybug. Tikki was gone, as though she was never there.</p><p> </p><p>Alex looked down at his hands. He muttered something, too quiet for her to hear. Then he moved out the door and onto the street, <a href="https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=je-F8Da8oe4"> whistling a song she didn’t recognise. </a> </p><p> </p><p>Dazed, Marinette moved into the kitchen, taking one of Alex’s cookies for herself. She took a bite. Peanut butter and chocolate chips. He had cooked at least two dozen, a positively ludicrous amount for a late-night snack. Maybe he needs to eat more, being Ladybug.</p><p> </p><p>Oh god.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Alex was Ladybug. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The full ramifications of that hit her like a ton of bricks, almost knocking the wind out of her. It was an endless mantra, repeating itself in her mind infinitely.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Alex was Ladybug. Alex was LadybugAlexwasLadybugAlexwas- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head, forcing her mind to think of something, anything else. Alex’s voice invaded her thoughts. “<em> No matter how good I might be, I’ll still feel like I just stole this from Marinette. She would have been great.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Oh god.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was supposed to be her.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was supposed to be her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was too much to deal with. Her breathing quickened.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She could have been a superhero. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Alex is Ladybug. It was supposed to be her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She stumbled back up the stairs, back into her room, and into her bed. Her mind roared, half formed ideas and thoughts swirling in her head, fighting for dominance.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p><em> Blood surged, oxygen rushed. Marinette took a deep breath, then another, almost choking on her own spit. Alive </em> . <em> She was alive. That one thought spurred her into motion. She bolted upright. The library, once destroyed, was now pristine, as though the fight never happened. She stood up on shaky legs, hugging herself. She wandered out and past Nathaniel, who looked just as confused as she felt. She walked home, climbing the stairs slowly, terrified that at any second this moment would reveal itself to be a hallucination of her dying mind. Her parents jumped up off the couch, tried to ask her what was wrong. She hugged them so tightly her arms hurt. </em></p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>She slapped herself. “Get a grip! Think Marinette! Alex is Ladybug. It was going to be you. What are you going to do about it?”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head, got her breathing under control. </p><p> </p><p>“I have absolutely no idea.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>She could confront him about it tomorrow, she thought. After a good night's sleep. Yeah. That sounds nice. </p><p> </p><p>She closed her eyes, then opened them again. No, she thought again. Don’t let Alex find out that I know. Don’t tell anyone, in fact. The best kept secret is one you never tell, right? </p><p> </p><p>She didn’t know where she heard that, but it felt appropriate.</p><p> </p><p>She tried to ignore the swirling thoughts in her mind, creating and discarding courses of action. It was too much to think about, almost overwhelming her sleep-addled mind. She could think about it in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>She closed her eyes. Then opened them again. She had forgotten to go to the bathroom.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Footnote:</p><p>??? to next level.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Bond</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Hey Donut! It’s been a while! Have you finished that new chapter of Alex yet?”<br/>“Yep, got it right here.”<br/>“Jesus this is so fucking gay. How long did this take you?”<br/>“Depends. Is it July yet?”<br/>“It’s December, Donut.”<br/>“Took me a while.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter 8 - Bond</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sir, it doesn’t matter how many times you say it, there is no such thing as a… ‘right to be stripsearched’.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Choices.</span>
</p><p>We all make our choices, but in the end, our choices make us.</p><p>
  <span>Whenever I watched superhero movies, or read comic books, I was always curious about why, upon receiving powers, people immediately resort to either fighting or committing crime. Surely, if one had super strength, you’d be better off working in construction, or shipping. But no, it’s always punching things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe, they fought crime out of guilt, or committed crime out of perceived injustices from a system that failed them. The reasons are varied and limitless...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But none of that really applied to me, now did it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did I, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alexandre Roland Dupain-Cheng, </span>
  </em>
  <span>choose to be a superhero?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t. I had absolutely no choice in the matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A superhero that had no choice but to be a superhero. Imagine that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(—+—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It choked the air in the thick, soupy blanket. The clock in my yo-yo told me it was about 4am. Paris was a sleeping city, still recovering and resting from the ordeal of the day before. My bags were resting by my side. It was bitterly cold. And here, on top of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arc de Triomphe, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I gently </span>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ">
    <span>sung a song</span>
  </a>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>watching the steam escape my lips in the freezing cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you spoke English.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gaahhhhhh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrambling over myself, I moved into a roll that put me face to face with Chat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merciful fuck, Chat! My fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>heart, </span>
  </em>
  <span>holy shit!” I screeched. The green-eyed bastard stayed silent, the fuck, only letting the corner of his mouth twitch at my reaction. Getting my breathing under control, I put my hand on my chest, feeling the thundering against my ribcage. I forced a smile onto my face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chat Noir, what a pleasant surprise! What brings you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Oh, I was just out for an early morning jog, when I spotted you on my Baton, and thought I should come and say hello.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wrinkled my eyebrows. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat winked. “The unvarnished truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sighed. “Okay Chat, stop me if you’ve heard this one before. You get home from fighting a supervillain, collapse onto your bed, sleep for 12 hours, wake up in the early morning, realise you can’t get back to sleep, and decide to just travel the city as a superhero because let’s face it, it’s pretty sick. And you just so happen to end up on famous Parisian landmarks because it seems like a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I leant in towards Chats face until our noses were almost touching. “Does that sound familiar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat took a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, that may or may not have been an eerily scary and accurate retelling of the last 12 hours, but the point still stands. I think we should hang out. Properly I mean. Fighting supervillains is nice, but, well, I felt we should get to know each other better, if we’re going to be protecting Paris together.” He tilted his head. “Or am I interrupting your brooding time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rolled my eyes. “Angst and brooding are for sissies and lame writers who want to pretend their story has emotional depth.” I paused. “And for the existentialist movement, I guess. I could never brood properly anyway. It always sounded like I was whining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat ignored me, brushing past to stare out into the city. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? You know, I hardly ever get to see it. And never from an angle like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” I said in a tone as close as I could manage to his own, “the word penis comes from the Latin ‘penis’, which used to mean ‘tail’ to them, and it still was the archaic word for ‘tail’ until the language died out. I find this funny because in German, the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>der Schwanz</span>
  </em>
  <span> means ‘tail’, but it’s also slang for penis. I just find this connection to be amusing. So if I ever talk of my tail in any language, I’m referring to that fleshy thingy between my legs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you said something completely unrelated to what I said, so I figured I’d repay in kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s how the superhero meeting devolved into a staring contest. Chat rubbed the back of his head, shifting his weight near constantly. “Wanna hang out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God yes. I’m so bored up here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(—+—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s a good team-building exercise?” I asked. Chat and I were now both seated on the side of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arc</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with him to my left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Chat began. “We could get to know each other a little bit. What’s something about yourself that you’d be happy to share?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, I speak fluent English.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>I said in fluent English. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat replied in a language I didn’t recognise. We stared at each other. “What’s the matter, don’t speak Mandarin?” He smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stared. “You speak fruit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I mean Chinese.” The conversation devolved into staring again. We were both quite certain this conversation should be going a certain way, and we’re pretty sure it wasn’t this.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wanna fuck with him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Do you even need to ask?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Chat. Have you ever met a celebrity?” I questioned. He tilted his head, his tail flicked (</span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking how, it’s a belt?!)</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he didn’t turn towards me. It was as if he was making a calculated attempt to appear disinterested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A couple. Nobody I think you’d know, though.”</span>
</p><p>I hummed. “I’ve met one, you see.” I nodded my head towards a billboard, situated behind Chat. “Only reason I’m bringing it up is because I was just reminded by his smiling face.”</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Chat turned around quizzically, then stiffened when he saw who it was. “Ad… Adrien Agreste?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Met the guy once in public, and I’ve gotta say: kind of an ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What</span>
  <em>
    <span>.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, like, not really. He was one of the most polite and friendly people I’ve ever met, so you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s secretly a psychopath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat stared at me as if I were explaining to him that time his mother, father and I had a fourway with a goat. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He really was very polite though. Which honestly just made me hate him more. I mean, he’s polite, well dressed, intelligent, charming… just an utter delight to be around. He is perfect, and therefore I hate him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit, hold that thought!” I stood up, unholstering my yo-yo. My grin was bordering on manic. “You wanted a team building exercise? Let’s see if Lady Luck has anything for us!” I finally get to do the thing!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky Charm!” The Ladybugs spring forth, coalescing into a single point a few metres above my head. The red and black polka-dotted object fell, landing neatly in my palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat and I inspected it for a moment. “Spray paint.” We said in unison. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat looked up at me. “What exactly does your power do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shrugged, not taking my eyes off the can. “Supposedly, it creates an object that, in some ludicrously obtuse way, will solve whatever problem I have at that moment.” I held up the can, shaking it. “Creation.” I grabbed Chat’s hand, holding up the ring. “And Destruction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Fair enough.” His face twisted. “Wait, does that mean you get two superpowers and I only get one?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I winked. “Well maybe I’m just better than you.” At his pouting, I laughed. “One day, we’ll swap Miraculouses. Then you get to be the weirdo in polka-dots.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “I’ll hold you to that, you know. Don’t think I won’t.” He crossed his arms, pointing at the can in my hands. “So what do you do with that, oh Lady Luck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I put my hand on my chin, looking around the city of Paris. My eyes kept on being drawn to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gabriel </span>
  </em>
  <span>billboard, and I couldn’t figure out why. “Hey Chat, hold this.” Not waiting for a confirmation, I tossed it, and was pleased when he caught it easily. I took out my yo-yo, opening up the Internet function. “Let’s see, customer reviews… oh me oh my.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I looked up to see Chat giving me a weird look. “Hey Chat. I know what we’re gonna do tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(—+—)</span>
</p><p>“The reviews for this stuff are terrible Chat. The people need to know what they’re buying!” I insisted.</p><p>“Ladybug, no.”</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, me.” I flicked the cap off the can, and began shaking. The can made that pleasing </span>
  <em>
    <span>rattle </span>
  </em>
  <span>sound.</span>
</p><p>“...I really don’t know how to explain to you that there's a fine line between exercising your right as a consumer, and vandalising private property.”</p><p>I waved my hand. “This is a multimillion dollar company, they can afford it.”</p><p>Chat scowled up at his own smiling face, as though he were attempting to destroy it through telekinesis. “Ladybug, we’re superhero’s. People need to look up to us!”</p><p>
  <span>“Come on! Where’s your French spirit?” I asked, slapping him on the back. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Viva la révolution!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> I added (screamed), just because I wanted to sound badass.</span>
</p><p>Chat looked at me for a long time. So long, in fact, that I was about to start poking him, but then, slowly, he nodded.</p><p>(—+—)</p><p>Shaking my head to clear it of that pleasant flashback to this morning, I examined my new sister.</p><p>Marinette. </p><p>The girl stared at her breakfast (a croissant, real fucking original), as if daring it to move. I tried to imagine what could be bothering her, and came up empty. “Hey Marinette? Is something the matter?” I asked.</p><p>She gasped in surprise, as though she just remembered I was there. She didn’t turn towards me, just observed me out of the corner of her eye. “Me? Oh, nothing! Nothing at all! Why would there be?” She said a little too quickly.</p><p>“No reason.” She relaxed a little, to my vague consternation. An idea occurred to me. “Can’t a big brother worry about his sister?”</p><p>A roll of the eyes. “Thirty minutes, Alex. Thirty minutes and you act like it’s five years.”</p><p>
  <span>Oh good, so I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>older than her. I sat back in my high chair, satisfied. Then, the serenity of this peaceful Parisian morning was shattered by the bellow of a wild animal.</span>
</p><p>“ALEX!” Came a voice from downstairs.</p><p>I grimaced. “Yes, Sab- er, mum?”</p><p>
  <span>Sabine stomped her way up the stairs from the bakery, and she stuck her head around the doorframe, waving an empty jar of peanut butter as though it were a head on a stick. “Did you use </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of our peanut butter to bake </span>
  <em>
    <span>cookies</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>“...no?”</p><p>Like a pancake trying to explain to his wife the benefits of extreme racism, Sabine sighed and shook her head, retreating back downstairs. I gulped. I was pretty sure I left some laying around, but then again...</p><p>“So! How about those superheroes, huh?” I asked, turning back to Marinette.</p><p>“Huh, buh, wuh? What, er, what about them?” She stuttered.</p><p>“Well, you’ve gotta have some thoughts. I mean, did you see Chat Noir?” I mimed fanning myself. “Hottie!”</p><p>Her eyes bulged out of her skull, and she spent a few minutes screaming in pain on the ground, eyes flapping about on still-connected optic nerves. Or, at least I imagined they did. In truth, she just gawked at me.</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You need help, Alex. You need so much help.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>She finally turned to look at me, and I immediately wished she hadn't. There was an almost manic look in her eyes, with thick, dark bags underneath them. “Uh, why do you ask?” Her smile was too wide, and I watched with fascination as a bead of sweat raced down her forehead.</p><p>Well, you might think I’m pretty dense, but it was only then that the other shoe dropped.</p><p>“Marinette!” I shouted, pointing a finger. “I knew it! Somehow I always knew! Why didn’t you tell me!?”</p><p>Her pupils shrunk to pinpricks, and she held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Alex, please, I seriously don’t mind if you had t-“</p><p>“We discussed this! You said you’d be laying off the crack! Look at you! You’re high as a kite! You’re higher than Charlie Sheen's pet lizard! Holy shit, what is wrong with you?”</p><p>
  <span>“What.” She deadpanned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shrugged, all former energy lost. “I dunno. You seemed stressed. I wanted to calm you down.” I snapped my fingers, and gave her a wink and finger guns. “By distracting you from whatever’s bothering you.” I smiled. “Did it work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised her finger, pointing at me accusingly. Then, she sort of stopped, lowered her hand, and stared straight ahead. “You know, you actually kinda did. Distracted me, I mean. You definitely didn’t calm me down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to thank me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette looked down at her hands, fidgeting with them. She swallowed. “Alex, you… know you can talk to me… right? If, you know, there was something that you needed help with. Or just wanted to talk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, thanks? I’m… gonna- I’ll remember that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Odd.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>(—+—)</span>
</p><p>“You seem chipper today!” Tikki exclaimed. The little Kwami was resting on my pillow, chowing down on one of the dozens of cookies I’d baked last night. Ordinarily I would’ve gotten annoyed at the crumbs she was spilling, but to be honest I was in such a good mood I let it go. “Especially after yesterday. I was worried about you after you spoke with the guardian.”</p><p>I nodded in agreement. “I was worried about me too, Tikki. Well, mostly worried in the sense of: ‘how long it would take for an Akuma to take a liking to my asshole’,” (The Kwami blanched.) “but I had an epiphany last night.”</p><p>Tikki smiled. “And what would that be?”</p><p>
  <span>“Well firstly, after yesterday with the broken limbs and everything? I figure that’s as bad as it’s ever going to get for me. And secondly, in all of fiction, the good guys always win.” I took a pose, hands in my hips, legs apart, a winning smile on my face. It was the kind of pose that just screamed: ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>No need to be alarmed citizen!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>“So what do I have to worry about if I’ll always win?”</span>
</p><p>Tikki stared, open mouthed. “Alex, don’t you think that’s an extremely unhealthy and egotistical outlook about an extremely serious responsibility?” She choked out.</p><p>
  <span>I grinned. “Tikki, I reckon that by the end of this, no matter how it goes, I’m going to be a psychological mess. Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>years </span>
  </em>
  <span>of therapy. So at least I can keep a positive outlook, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tikki glanced from side to side nervously. “Ummm… as your Kwami, I’m not sure I can condone this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, relax, Tikki. I’ve got a good feeling about today! Don’t bring down the mood- no one likes a Debbie downer!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tikki shook her head, not fully convinced, but not willing to argue the point so early in the morning. At my gesturing, she grabbed a small container of cookies and carried them into my waiting backpack. Giving my room one last look around, I moved back into the kitchen. Marinette was gone, leaving the tv blaring out early morning news bulletins, read by none other than Nadja Chamack. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>“Officials are still baffled at the vandalising of a </b>
  <b>
    <em>Gabriel </em>
  </b>
  <b>billboard in the early hours of the morning...”</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The screen changed, this time showing the billboard in question, the same one from last night. Adrien’s smiling face leered down, with a bottle of perfume off to the side. Written on the billboard in were the words ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gabriel. Eu de parfume’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And underneath, in haphazard, dripping black paint, was ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>0/5 stars do not buy’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good times.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(—+—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alex.” Tom started. He and Sabine had cornered me in the bakery on my way out, during a rare quiet moment. “Your mother and I are worried about you.” Concern was written across his features like an after school detention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded, trying to give the appearance that I cared. I had already had a mother and father in my life, I think I could be forgiven for not being 100% on board with some new ones. “Fair enough. I worry about me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabine’s head tilted. “And what do you worry about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My untimely death at the hands of a Supervillain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girls.” I said. “And also school and stuff.” Tom and Sabine looked at each other, sharing what I can only imagine to be a conversation in the secret language that all couples unlock after 7 years of being together. “Why? What do you worry about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, for a start, the scratches on your face! How did you even get them?” I opened my mouth. “And no dodging the question this time! What on </span>
  <em>
    <span>earth </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because shoving a fully formed adult consciousness into a teenagers head whilst retaining a fluency in French cannot be a pleasant experience.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>Rubbing the back of my neck, I mentally wrestled with my excuse while trying to maintain eye contact to establish dominance. “It’s, um, kinda embarrassing, mum. I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped my way into a rose bush.” I looked around conspiratorially then leaned forward. “But please tell anyone that asks that I got it in a fight with a feral cat.” I said in a stage whisper.</p><p>
  <span>Tom and Sabine shared another look. “Ok. But, you know you can talk to us. About whatever might be bothering you. And … sorry about yelling at you this morning. We’re glad you’re finally taking an interest in baking, but can you please let us know beforehand in the future?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smiled. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Odd.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, not that I don’t love talking to you two, but I think I’d better head off to school.” I shouldered my backpack, exchanged goodbyes, and headed out the door. Holy shit, it was nice to have school so close. Growing up, school used to be in that awkward distance of ‘slightly too far to walk casually, not quite far enough to justify a drive.’ But now? Fall over twice and you’re there! Actually, speaking of falling over...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Are you there, magical voice? All set for the plan?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Operation: Make Adrien Agreste our BFF is a go. I have the Target in sight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger that, MV. I’m moving to engage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Picking up the pace, I tried to make it so that we would just ‘happen’ to run into each other. Then, talk to him, and finally seduce him with my patented Alex charm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ok, we need to approach this tactifully. I know that you struggle with that, so listen to me very carefully. I need you to-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrien! Long time no see!” I hollered.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MOTHERFU-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy turned his head quizzically, a textbook look of confusion on his face, which quickly morphed into one of recognition. “Hello again… um, you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I waved my hand dismissively, my best Winning Smile™ on my face. “Yeah, sorry about not introducing myself. The name’s Alex. Dupain-Cheng. Al- aw, I fucked that up. Can I go again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(—+—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So tell me Adrien, you were taken away from school yesterday. What changed?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nice going. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A police siren rang out in the distance as I walked Adrien into school. The boy, it turns out, was almost preternaturally likeable. Earlier today, when I spoke so highly of Adrien to Chat? That was me just messing with him, but it seems I was closer than I realised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked away, at a police car parked next to the school. “Well… my father spoke to me. He was pretty upset that I ran away like that.” I nodded for him to continue. “And then he said that if I wanted to go to school that badly, I could go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blinked. “Just like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like that.” We shared a comfortable silence for a bit. It was broken when he spoke again. “Well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raised my eyebrow. “It’s a hole in the ground that you draw water from. I’m familiar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I mean, I lied to you and told you that my father let me go to school.” He seemed to shrink in on himself. “Aren’t you angry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My face contorted. “Did you?” I shook my head, putting my hand in his shoulder. “Well, don’t worry about it.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit, am I the only one feeling how fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>jacked </span>
  <em>
    <span>this boy is underneath that jacket? Who knew fencing was so intensive?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking my head to clear it of vaguely homoerotic thoughts, I continued. “Look, Adrien. It’s your first day. You’ve got that classic ‘fish out of water’ look. I’m not just gonna hate you because you told one little lie!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s so cute! Look at how flustered he is! </span>
  </em>
  <span>“You seem like a good guy, Adrien. Stick with me, you’ll go far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. A small, genuine smile graced his perfect face, which I returned on my own, far less perfect face. I moved to his side, putting my arm around his shoulder and gently pushing him up the stairs. “Good job by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave me a funny look. “What for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two minutes into your first day and you’ve already made a friend. That’s gotta be a record.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrien laughed, with every sign of good humour, and by God, is it good to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, naturally, something bad had to happen to balance it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing I noticed was the downright ridiculous amount of police officers milling around the school courtyard. The second thing was the Mayor himself with Chloe, talking to each other. I exchanged a look with Adrien. Confusion was written across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are there always this many police at school?” He asked, voicing both our thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I thought for a moment, then gasped. “Actually! I’ll tell you what they’re here for! The supervillain attack from yesterday started here! They must be here for that!” I grinned. “Police work at its finest!” I turned back towards the Mayor, only see him, Chloe, and most of the school actually,  staring at me. I made ‘Who, me?’ gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s him daddy! The one who turned me into that… </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She screeched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mayor, usually soft and cuddly like a giant teddy bear, was suddenly glaring at me with such intensity that even I had trouble maintaining eye contact. “Officers! Arrest that boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The surrounding police moved to obey, advancing on me slowly, but steadily. Collecting myself, I stamped my foot. “On what charge?” I demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Mayor shook his head. “Ladybug himself said that the one responsible for yesterday’s attack preys on ‘negative emotion’. And who gave my little girl those emotions? You!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes widened. I slowly tracked my gaze across the crowd, taking it all in. Surprise, confusion; absolutely no one looked happy except Chloe and the Mayor. I felt a slight nudging sensation on my back- Tikki trying to get my attention from inside my bags. Students were looking amongst themselves; yet again, a single interaction between Chloe and myself had significantly complicated my life.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fucking swear,” I mumbled, “if everyday ends up like this, I’m gonna take that ring and wish myself back home.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Footnote: Level up!</p><p>New Companion Perk: Adrien- Daddy Issues</p><p>Daddy never hugged Adrien enough. This gives you a Freudian excuse to misbehave. Oh, and you now do +5% bonus damage to mothers, fathers and expecting fathers. But you also do 15% bonus damage to expecting mothers, because you’re a giant cunt and you sicken me.</p><p>Authors note: I’d suck the soul out of a dick for a bus ticket. Imagine what I’ll do for a comment.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Justice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I superglued my fingers together today. It took an hour to get them apart.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 9 - Justice</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You’ve got to follow the small laws in order to break the big ones.” </em>
</p><p>Nobody moved.</p><p>The police, which had so far been amiably chatting amongst themselves, were now advancing on me. I myself stood frozen, my mind planning, analysing and discarding paths to victory. Or at least getting out of this with my asshole the same size as when I woke up today. <em> I’m gonna be honest here Alex, I don’t think we’d flourish in a prison environment. </em></p><p>“Chloe!” Adrien started, making me jump. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “What are you doing?!”</p><p>Her royal smugness dismissively waved her hand. “Don’t worry about a thing, Adrikins. This <em> criminal </em> will soon be behind bars, and then I can properly show you around! This shouldn’t take a second.” Adrien's face twisted.</p><p>“You- I…” he stuttered. Words <em> are </em>treacherous little fuckers, I find. Either forcing themselves out where they don’t belong, or abandoning us when we need them most. It gave me a small, spiritual connection to the human race, to find that one so perfect could also struggle with human things.</p><p>
  <em> Jesus Alex, keep it in your pants. </em>
</p><p>Shaking my head, I started backing away from the officers, only to back into one behind me. My eyes widened and I ducked, dodging his lazy grapple and rolling away. So, police on all sides, a pissed off mayor, and an even more pissed off teenage girl. Of the three, the teenage girl scared me the most. </p><p>My eyes scanned the courtyard, spotting some music students who were moving equipment before this trouble began. I suddenly knew what I had to do. Only music could soothe the savage mob.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>“On what charges?!” I demanded.</p><p>One brave officer looked around at the horrified expressions on everyone’s faces; students, teachers, cops and mayors. “Well, besides all the ones we listed, you’re also being charged for what you… ‘<em> sang’ </em>about?”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, pushing over the microphone stand like a perfectly reasonable person.</p><p>The officer looked down at his notepad. “Well, just looking at a single line of the lyrics, I can safely charge you with exactly fifty-four counts of sexual harassment.”</p><p>I blinked, then said in a flat voice, “I’m not apologising.” We stared off at each other.</p><p>“Yeah, well, you’re still being charged.”</p><p>“You’ll never take me alive, copper!” I shouted, and he remained expressionless, unlike everyone else in the school, who all still looked horrified. </p><p>“Look, Kid. You <em> are </em>just a kid. Just get your parents to pay the fine, and we’ll be on our way. We don’t want to be here either.” He said with a roll of the eyes.</p><p>“I refuse to pay you thugs anything, purely out of spite and moral principle.”</p><p>The cop sighed, rubbing the side of his head. “Then we’ll have to take you down to the station until the judge comes up with an appropriate amount of community service for you.”</p><p>I looked around. I knew that all I had to do was let Tikki fiddle with any locks, and I’d be out of there in an instant. Of course, any competent officer would take my bags away from me. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, I swung my backpack off my shoulder and onto my front. Sticking my hand in my bags, I felt around as if I were trying to grope a girl in the dark, eventually feeling Tikki. “Hey.” I whispered. “Get inside me.”</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>They pushed me into a dingy chair in a shady room with one-way glass on one wall and handcuffed me to a table. “I’ve played nice so far. I’m not even technically under arrest. For Christ’s sake, I’m 14 years old! Are the cuffs necessary?” I asked.</p><p>“We’re sorry, Alex, it’s mostly for appearances.” Said one of the officers who’d taken me in as they left the room. I wonder if police officers in a children’s show just follow fundamentally different rules than I was used to, making this kind of treatment of minors acceptable. And then my mind started to wander a little bit. I was just starting to wonder if it was possible to strangle a snake when a new officer walked in.</p><p>The first word that came to mind to describe her was <em> cat. </em> No, not like Chat Noir, but in her mannerisms, and how she moved. Every movement was deliberate; she didn’t walk so much as <em> flow </em>over to the chair opposite myself. Her brown, almond eyes had an unmistakable sense of mirth about them as they observed me from a frame of black hair. </p><p>“Hello Alexandre.” She began. I couldn’t place her accent, but whatever it was seemed to give fresh beauty to the French language. “Before we begin, can I get you anything?”</p><p>“There is actually- could you turn down the heat a little bit? It’s kinda warm in here.” Which was true, the interrogation room was warm, bordering on uncomfortably so. It was much like a warm, dry cave which calls out to any would-be adventurer caught in the rain because they were too cool to listen to the forecast. Though in my case, it was on a beach, and definitely a bit too fleshy to be a cave… oh, if only I’d figured out what it was sooner! But, to be honest, it was pretty nice to be maybe the only person on earth that can truthfully say “I once slept in a dead whale's vagina.”- excepting how that literally never happened.</p><p>“...you did <em> what?! </em>Oh my god, I’m gonna be sick.”</p><p>“Huh.” I blinked. “I said that out loud, didn’t I? That was meant to be a thought.”</p><p>Officer Kitty-Kat floundered, staring at me with wide eyes. “How does- what… how the <em> fuck </em>do you get from ‘it’s hot in here’ to ‘dead whale cunts!’ Normal people don’t think like that!” She shrieked.</p><p>Oh, nice. She’s only been here 10 seconds and I’ve completely thrown her off her game. Score one for team Alex. “And for the record, if you’re good cop, what happened to bad cop? Isn’t he supposed to come in first?” I leaned forward, wearing a malicious grin as though it were armour. “Or are you so incompetent at your job I have to tell you how to do it?”</p><p>“He… called in sick today.” She said softly, like a kitten.</p><p>“Oh. Well, that makes perfect sense. What, did he come down with a case of <em> Vagina Dentata </em>?”</p><p>Officer Kitty-Kat screwed her eyes shut and counted to ten. Straining, she forced her face to relax. After a few seconds, it was almost believable. I went to grab my phone from my jeans and try and play a game, but then I remembered that they had thoroughly searched me, so I just sort of rubbed my pants awkwardly. </p><p>Then I remembered that I was supposed to be handcuffed. My hands had just easily slipped out of those cuffs. Oh god, did Alex have freakishly small hands? Fuck my life. </p><p>Officer Kitty-Kat followed my train of thought. “Looks like they were nice to you. The Mayor is coming down hard on you, so we’re trying to make it look as though we’re taking you seriously.” </p><p>“... So if you guys don’t think I did anything, can I go?”</p><p>“Not yet.” Reaching into her jacket, she took out a notepad and pen. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to know exactly what it is that happened yesterday.”</p><p>I stared at her, then the notepad, and finally the one way glass. I leaned forward, then said in a stage whisper, “Is this all just some ludicrously obtuse way of getting a witness statement?”</p><p>She smiled and nodded. “Essentially. We hardly think that the 14-year-old son of a baker could be a magical terrorist.” <em> But a 14-year-old magical superhero... </em></p><p>“I see.” I sighed, then tried to order everything in my mind. “Well, it all started when I walked into class. Chloe and I got into an argument, and then the next thing I know, she’s a giant rock monster trying to kill me.” I leaned back in my chair. “It was, as you can imagine, oodles of fun.”</p><p>Officer Kitty-Kat nodded. “Ladybug mentioned that negative emotions are what caused the transformation.” </p><p>I shrugged. “Well, I’d hope he knows what he’s talking about.”</p><p>She scribbled something on her notepad. “So, you admit that you did cause those… ‘Negative Emotions’?”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess I… wait a second.” I looked around. “Did I just admit to doing it?”</p><p>“Insofar as we understand the threat, I guess you did.”</p><p>We stared off with each other. </p><p>“I don’t suppose you could let me go?” I asked. </p><p>“Not yet.”</p><p>“Oh come on!” I shouted. “Isn’t there, like, a law about the chain of causation or something? How could I have possibly predicted that a simple schoolyard incident would result in a Supervillain attack!”</p><p>Her eyes widened, and she put her hands up in a classic French pose, “Now just hang on a second-“</p><p>There was a knocking on the door, and another cop stuck their head in. He gave me a polite nod, then gave officer Kitty-Kat a venomous look. “Are you done yet? Other people have to use this interrogation room too. You know? For <em> actual </em>criminals?”</p><p>I waved at the new guy. “Hey.” He waved back. He was my favourite cop. Why couldn’t I be interrogated by <em> him? </em></p><p>I turned back to Officer Kitty-Kat. “Face it. Were I to actually do something like this, I’d do it with some pizazz! And also make sure that those ‘Negative Emotions’ aren’t pointed at me. All you’ve got is circumstantial evidence! You can hardly arrest every kid in Paris when they get into a fight, so may I please leave?”</p><p>Officer Kitty-Kat looked at me for a long time. After a few seconds, I realised she wasn’t actually appraising me, just trying to look like she knew what she was doing. Girl needed to learn how to stare down her suspects properly. </p><p>With nothing else to really do, I started tapping the table, making jazzy rhythms to amuse myself. Just as I was about to break out into song, she cleared her throat. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.” Then she stood up, gave me a polite smile, and left.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Don’t go anywhere’ oh yeah sure fucking hilarious I bet you’re the fu- </em>
</p><p>The Magical Voice ranted some more while I went back to trying to create Frances' next hottest Single. </p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p>“Oh, there I was, sitting in a chair when</p><p>Some cops came, and, told me to come with them</p><p>Now I sit again, in this here room</p><p>I, offended the cop and, now I’m all alooooooone~”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And again, from the top! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Well I looked her up and down</p><p>And said: girl you looking fine~</p><p>Then she whipped out a penis</p><p>Twice the size of mine”</p><p> </p><p>No, it didn’t make sense. No, there was no rhyme or rhythm either. My dreams of being a famous pop star were rapidly vanishing before my eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“And now the third verse:</p><p>Oh, we’re on a track</p><p>And that’s a fact</p><p>It goes though the land like a hill of sand,</p><p>I say hey!”</p><p> </p><p>The door opened. I turned quizzically, smiling when I saw who it was. “Officer Kitty-Kat, so good to see you!”</p><p>She tilted her head. “Why does everyone keep comparing me to a cat?” She looked as though she were deep in thought, but she caught herself before her train of it could be derailed. “My name is Detective Cain, and I apologise for not telling you earlier.” She came over to the handcuffs, unlocking them with a key from her jacket. It was a symbolic gesture of course; I could have easily gotten out myself.</p><p>“Does this mean I’m free to go?” </p><p>“It would seem you are. Sorry to keep you here so long, but you did get to skip some school, so I guess it wasn’t all bad, right?” Her smile was hopeful. “Oh, and don’t worry about the... ‘singing’, we can’t fine minors, apparently. Though you may have to do some detention; I just got off the phone with Principle Damocles. He wasn’t very happy.”</p><p>“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s like a big cuddly bear.” I grinned. “Maybe.” I brushed past the detective, taking my first breath as a free man. I turned to shake her hand. “Well detective, I’d tell that it’s been fun-“ I made a show of looking around the room conspiritivly, then leaned in towards her. Perhaps out of politeness, or genuine reflex, she leaned in as well until my mouth was right next to her ear. “-but that would be telling.” I pulled back, winked, smiled, and left her mildly confused.</p><p>I wandered out of the interrogation room while Officer Kitty… Detective Cain kept rattling on about how sorry they were. They were probably hoping that I wouldn’t sue, but to be honest the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until just now. I’ve never been a particularly vindictive boy, for all my other faults. Maybe I’ll just let them stew for a little.</p><p>…</p><p>Okay, it would also complicate my life further and I am, at my core, a lazy fuck, but still!</p><p>Outside was a pretty standard police station, desks full of detritus and people scurrying about in a way that made no sense but was undoubtedly efficient. Spotting the station's kitchen, I made my way over, ignoring and dodging the office drones. (A metaphor that came quite naturally to me; they really did remind me of machines)</p><p>I raided the fridge, and nabbed myself some donuts and milk. Quickly glancing around, I rapped my knuckles on my sternum. Tikki popped her head out. “Hey. Thanks for being patient Tikki.” I held the donut in front of her. To my vague surprise, she didn’t start eating, instead looking up towards my face. </p><p>“You and I are going to have a <em> talk </em>later.” Then she retreated back inside of me. </p><p>I stared dumbly at the space on my chest. “...Well that’s just about the ominous thing ever.” I whispered, dread shooting through me. I feel like every man on the planet starts to shit themselves when they hear those words.</p><p>Appetite suddenly ruined, I left the kitchen, and my poor donut. <em> I wonder where our bags are… </em></p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>Wallet, phone, backpack, magical earrings, ageless spirit of luck and creation…</p><p>Yep, that’s everything. </p><p>I made my way upside, where the sun momentarily blinded me. Blinking, I tried to figure out where I was. I pulled out my phone, (momentarily grateful that Alex was evidently a very immature boy- the passcode was 8008) tapping various icons to bring up the map, and I realised it was an almost half hour walk back to school. Scoffing, I turned and headed back inside. Time to be a fucking travel agent of guilt trips.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks again for the ride, detective.”</p><p>Detective Cain smiled awkwardly, making every possible effort to look anywhere that wasn’t me. “It was the least I could do.” </p><p>Am I a vindictive boy? No. But petty? Oh, absolutely.</p><p> </p><p>(—+—)</p><p> </p><p>Waving goodbye to the detective as she drove off, I swallowed thickly. It was a very different school that I walked into from the one I walked out of. By my estimates, lunch was just about to start, so I needed to track down Adrien as soon as possible. Drag him away from Chloe and Sabrina, and maybe requisition Alya to help <em> keep </em>him away.</p><p>“Eezee peezee.”</p><p>
  <em> You’ve jinxed it. You’re gonna get fucked, you know? You’re gonna get slapped in the face by the long dick of fate. </em>
</p><p>Then I guess this is gonna end with me biting fates dick off. </p><p>
  <em> Fucking hell Alex, do you hear yourself!?! </em>
</p><p>I try not to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Footnote:</p><p>60% to next level</p><p>1 / 2 speech checks passed this chapter.</p><p>Level up!</p><p>New perk - Career Criminal (level one)</p><p>Society doesn’t ‘control’ you. And you’re gonna make sure everyone knows it. While definitely not a master thief or a dashing rogue, you’ve still done some hard time in the slammer. This grants a bonus of +5 to both Speech and Sneak.</p><p>Authors Note: </p><p>"How I Came to Sleep in a Dead Whales Vagina" would make an awesome title for my upcoming Alex x Mylene erotic fanfic</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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